


The Santa Stand-In

by Cecilia1204



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Romance, Sandor the grumpy Santa, Sansa the sexy elf, Santa's Helper, Smut, santa, various characters as children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:28:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecilia1204/pseuds/Cecilia1204
Summary: Was it Sandor's fault that the would-be thief he tackled and who's leg he broke was the store's famous 'Santa'?  Now he would have to stand-in as 'Santa' until Christmas Eve.  His idea of hell.  At least the sexy photographer who dressed as an elf was a distraction.  No, that only added to his misery.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help myself - I love the idea of Sandor dressed as Santa. And I imagined him in a department store full of whiny, snotty kids and their stressed parents. Add a sexy Sansa to the mix and it should be fun ride!

“You’re fucking kidding me!”

 

“On the contrary, Mr Clegane.  I am deadly serious about this.  Because of you, our resident Santa is out of commission until after the New Year.  Seeing as how this last week until Christmas is his busiest time as desperate parents try to get their kiddie’s Santa photos before the day, we need to have the role filled.”

 

“Then get someone else.  Someone who cares about this shit.  I’m no Santa.  I’ll likely scare the shit out of the kids, with this face,” protested Sandor.

 

“There IS no one else!  Every Santa in this city is booked out.  Believe me, I’ve looked,” replied Mr Varys.  Sandor always called his boss ‘Mr Varys’ but the truth was he didn’t know if it was his first or second name.  He’d never heard a whisper about any other name attached to the bald Store Director.  “No, Mr Clegane, YOU are going to going to get that costume and beard on and you are going to do your absolute best as this store’s Santa or you will be out of a job come Christmas Day.  Understood?”

 

Sandor sighed and nodded in resignation.  Fuck.

 

How was he to know that the supposed intruder whom he genuinely thought was a thief trying to break in to the store after hours was actually Sam Tarly, Baratheon Bros’ hugely popular Santa?  What was he, the Store’s Chief Security Officer, to do?  Let the high-end department store be robbed?  All right, maybe crash-tackling the supposed thief and subsequently breaking the man’s leg in two places might seem over the-top-to some but at the time, Sandor’s instincts from his time in the military kicked in automatically.

 

It was only when the ambulance arrived, along with Mr Varys who confirmed that this was no thief, just Sam Tarly, who had forgotten his wallet and was trying to get back inside to get it so that he could go home, that Sandor felt his first hint of remorse.

 

Sandor couldn’t ever remember seeing Sam without his Santa costume on.  Or if he had, he hadn’t put the two together.  Without the suit, Sam was simply another nondescript customer in the store.  Pale, overweight, and fairly young for the role.  With the suit on, though, he became something altogether different. 

 

Sam had been voted Kings Landing’s ‘Most Popular Santa’ for three years in a row.  Parents were known to travel from all parts of Westeros in order to have their children’s Santa photo taken with the famous Baratheon Bros Department Store Santa.  Sam’s jolly nature, rosy cheeks and natural ‘padding’, combined with his skilled application of the beard, made him the picture perfect Santa that graced advertisements far and wide.  He was in demand not only during the Christmas period, but for television and magazine ads months in advance of the season.

 

Other stores and shopping centres offered him ridiculous amounts of money as they tried to poach the ‘real’ Santa, but Sam was nothing if not loyal and he refused all offers.

 

And now, because of him, Sam was in hospital and he would have to take on the role.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck and double fuck!

 

Sandor couldn’t imagine anything worse that having whiny, snotty kids climbing all over him, spreading their germs and being selfish little brats that droned on and on about the toys they wanted ‘Santa’ to bring them.  And their idiotic doting parents who would bend over backwards to make sure little ‘Johnny’ got everything he wanted, only to discard it the following day. 

 

And then not let his siblings play with it because it was ‘his’ and if they touched it, he would hurt them.  Perhaps push them into the fireplace that was still glowing with embers from the night before…

 

Shaking away the unwanted memories, he got back to his present predicament.  In two hours, Santa’s official hours would begin and the hordes would descend and he would have to act like he was all jolly and interested and all that bullshit.

 

And then there was her.

 

He may not have noticed Sam Tarly out of costume but he sure as hell noticed his ‘helper’, Sansa Stark.  Not that she was in disguise or anything like that. 

 

No, it was even worse.

 

She pranced around all day in her elf costume that showed off those long, long legs that were encased in green hose.  The green also set off her glorious red hair.

 

Sansa was the official photographer, positioning the children and ensuring they smiled at the camera and getting the best photo possible.  This required a lot of close contact with Santa.

Sandor had never spoken a word to her, had only seen her as he did his supervisory rounds, which seemed to take him through Santa’s workshop more often than normal.

 

Whether she noticed him in return, he didn’t know.  She was also so busy with the children that he doubted it.  At least, she never seemed to look his way.  Not that that was unusual for him.  With the burn scars covering nearly half his face, most people tried not to look at him if they could help it.

 

Combined with his immense height and build, he was a somewhat formidable figure which made him perfect for the role of security. 

 

Not so much for the role of Santa.  How the hell was he going to disguise the scar enough so the kids didn’t run off screaming in terror? 

 

Knowing there was nothing for it, not if he wanted to keep his job, he gritted his teeth and made his way to the area designated as ‘Santa’s Workshop’.  It looked like some drunken fairy on LSD had vomited tinsel and fake snow everywhere.  The decorators were obviously going for a winter wonderland theme but for someone who didn’t own so much as a piece of mistletoe, it was nausea inducing.  And he had to sit here for eight hours every day for the next eight days.

 

He might have to kill himself.  Or someone else.  Visions of Mr Varys hanging by the neck off the top of the huge Christmas tree was somewhat satisfying until she came out of a side room.

 

She wasn’t even dressed yet, wearing a warm, cream-coloured sweater and jeans, but it was enough to get his pulse racing.  As well as other parts of his anatomy.

 

He swore to himself as he felt his trousers get tight.  He’d probably get arrested if he was sporting a hard-on whilst holding a child on his lap.  No, he’d _definitely_ get arrested, even if the cause was the blue-eyed, red-head behind the camera.

 

Sansa was fiddling with the camera in hand and didn’t notice him until she practically ran into him.

 

“Oh!  I’m sorry.  I was miles away,” she told him, a puzzled smile on her face.  “Can I help you?  Santa photos don’t start for a couple of hours.”

 

“Yeah, I know.  I’m your Santa until Christmas Eve.”

 

Eyes widening in shock, Sansa looked at him properly, her gaze briefly flitting over his face before meeting his.  “What?  Where’s Sam?”

 

“In hospital.”

 

“Hospital?” she gasped in horror.  “How?  What happened?”

 

Sandor looked at the floor, a vague sense of guilt creeping over him.  “Broken leg.  He had an accident after work last night.  He’ll be in hospital for the next week or so and I’m going to stand in for him.”  Unless she asked Mr Varys, he wasn’t about to tell her exactly how Sam’s ‘accident’ happened.

 

Sansa’s hands covered her mouth in shock.  “That’s…that’s awful.  Poor Sam!  I’ll have to go visit him after work.  Do you know which hospital?”

 

“Uh, no.  I think Mr Varys does, though.”

 

Sansa nodded and he could see the wheels turning in her head before she looked at him, recognition lighting her features.  “I know who you are!”  His one good eyebrow raised in query.  “You’re the security guy.  I’ve seen you come through here though I’m usually flat out so I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself.  I’m Sansa Stark.”  She held out her hand.

 

Not having any choice, he took her hand, the contact with her skin sending shots of sensation straight to his cock.  Fuck!  “Sandor Clegane.”

 

Surprisingly, Sansa looked him straight in the eyes and smiled at him.  Woman rarely did that.  Most turned away in disgust.  She might just be a very good actress but he was impressed.  And even more turned on.

 

“So Sandor, have you even been a Santa before?”

 

“Fuck no!”

 

She reared back a little at his emphatic denial.  “Ok, then… um… why are you doing this?”

 

“Because I have no fucking choice.  It’s either do it or lose my job.”

 

“Oh,” she frowned.  “And how are you with children?”

 

“Wouldn’t know.  Never been around any.  Annoying little germ spreaders they are,” he sneered.

 

Sansa stared at him in a sort of fascinated, horrified way.  “Wow.  Then the next eight days are going to be hell, aren’t they?”

 

“You got that right.”

 

“Are you sure that there’s no one else who could fill in for Sam?  Someone who actually wants to be here?”

 

Sandor snorted.  “You don’t think Mr Varys hasn’t looked?  He might be a pain in the arse but he knows his business.  I’m probably the last person he wants sitting in that god-damned chair but I’m the only option.  Unfortunately.  For some reason, every fucking professional Santa is booked out,” he said sarcastically.

 

“All right, then.  We’ll just have to make the best of the situation,” she declared as if mentally girding her loins.

 

“Yeah, the best.  This is going to be fucking disaster,” he predicted cynically.

 

“You’ll need to tone down your language for a start,” glared Sansa.  “Santa would never swear, especially to young children, so watch your tongue.”

 

 _I’d prefer you watch it instead_ , he thought but said,  “Yeah, yeah.”

 

She was looking him up and down, taking in the massive shoulders and muscled arms before moving down to his taught stomach, encased in his shirt.  He saw the faint flush that crept over her cheeks and wanted to grin.  Despite his face, there was nothing wrong with his body, which he worked hard to maintain.

 

“Hmm, I hope the Santa suit fits,” she murmured to herself.  “You are very…large.”

 

“All over.”  He couldn’t help it.  Sure enough, the flush returned.

 

Determinedly ignoring his innuendo, Sansa turned towards the side room.  “The suit is in Sam’s dressing room.  You’d better put it on so I can see what needs to be done.  We’ll definitely have to pad you up around your stomach.  Sam didn’t need any but there is padding in the cupboard.  No, your stomach definitely needs padding,” she drifted off, as if in a trance.

 

Sandor followed her through the door into the dressing area.  There were two doors off that room, which was a common area with a small table and sofa.

 

“This is where we take our breaks,” Sansa pointed out.  “We can’t wander around in costume so we stay here.  Mr Varys has the café send up food and drinks – you can write any requests you have on that pad over there,” she said, pointing to a writing pad hanging on the wall.  “Café staff come up and collect it each evening and the food is usually in the fridge in the morning.  That is your dressing room over there.  Mine’s the other one.”

 

Sandor was mildly impressed by the lengths Mr Varys went to keep his Santa happy and employed by Baratheon Bros.  Then again, Sam brought the store a lot of custom, with parents spending up big in the department store, so it was good business.

 

Opening the door Sansa indicated, he saw the large mirror and winced internally.  He hated mirrors and avoided them as much as possible.  Looking at his face was not something he enjoyed, the memories of what his brother had done to him best kept in the secret recesses of his brain.  Lights completely surrounded the mirror and would throw his face into further relief, as if he needed to be reminded of what a mess it was.

 

Looking away, he saw the suit hanging on the other wall, boots on the floor.

 

“I’m never going to fit in those,” he declared.

Sansa looked from the boots to his feet and shook her head.  Pulling a phone from her pocket she quickly dialled.

 

“Mr Varys?  Hi, it’s Sansa.  Yes, Sandor is here with me.  He’s just going to try the suit on now but we’ve found a problem.  The boots won’t fit him.”  She listened to their boss whilst absentmindedly looking at him.  “Yes, that would be great.  Sandor?  What size shoe do you wear?”

 

“Size 13.”

 

Her eyebrows rose in astonishment but she relayed the information to Mr Varys. “Ok, great.  We’ll wait for her.  Bye, Mr Varys.”  She put the phone away before she spoke.  “The shoe department is going to find something suitable and will have them brought down.  In the meantime, how about you try on the suit?”

 

She left the room then, and Sandor looked warily at the red and white suit.  As if it was contagious, he lifted the jacket with two fingers.  No point putting it off.  He struggled into the pants that were way too big around the waist whilst being way too short in the leg.  The jacket fit, though it was strained around the shoulders and had a lot of room around the middle.  Luckily, it was long enough not to look ridiculous but it needed filling.

 

“Can I come in?” called Sansa from outside.

 

Opening the door at his answer, Sansa stood there and assessed the suit, with a finger on her lips.  “Hmm, it’s not too bad.”

 

“Where’s the padding?” he asked, pulling out the waistband of the pants.  “I’m going to be walking around in my underwear if I don’t tighten these.”

 

Sansa chuckled and flushed at the same time.  “That would cause an uproar, wouldn’t it?  I think the padding is in the closet outside.  I’ll just grab it.”

 

The padding turned out to be a type of bodysuit that would be a bastard to wear all day.  It was a little tight but once on, the suit fit a lot better.  “I feel like I’m pregnant,” he complained.

 

“At least you can take it off.  A heavily pregnant woman is stuck with it until she gives birth,” she laughed.

 

“Thank fuck I’ll never have to do that.”

 

“Language, Sandor.”

 

Sandor felt like he’d just been scolded by his teacher, and his imagination went into overdrive with images of her dressed as a schoolmarm ‘disciplining’ him.  He quickly realised that the padding, though a pain, did have the advantage of hiding his body’s wayward reactions to Sansa Stark.

 

“Right, now for the beard.”  Grabbing the beard that was sitting on a mannequin head, she handed it to Sandor.  “There is glue that you use to make sure the beard stays in place and is helpful against any accidental, or otherwise, pulling by little hands.”

 

“Glue?  I don’t want this shit stuck to my face.  How am I supposed to get it off?”

 

“Relax, Sandor.  It’s a special cosmetic glue.  You use moisturiser to dissolve it and it comes right off.  Sam can’t grow a beard to save his life, so this is vital,” she reassured him.

 

Right then, a knock sounded on the outer door.  “That’s probably the boots.”

 

This was getting worse and worse!  Not only did he have to walk around with the weight and shape of a pregnant belly, he had to put glue on his face, including in the crevices of his scars.  He decided to forgo the glue and just tighten the elastic.  It should be enough, he figured.

 

“Here you go.”  Sansa held up a pair of shiny boots.  He was somewhat amazed that they found a pair in his size.  He often had to get them specially made.  “These are huge,” she said in amazement.

 

He was going to say ‘well you know what they say about big feet’, but she had been pretty decent to him so far, so he held his tongue.  “I am six foot seven, so it would look pretty stupid if I had size 8 shoes.”

 

“Goodness, that sure would,” she chuckled.  “Well, I’m going to get changed and start setting up.  Jory should be here soon.”

 

“Who’s Jory?”

 

“He prints the photos after I’ve taken them.  In the old days, apparently, it used to take days to print when film was used, but now, with digital images, he prints them out within ten minutes.  Though that blows out when the rush starts.”

 

“How many kids will come through, do you think?”

 

“With only eight days left before Christmas, it’s going to be mayhem.  There will be lines, lots of tired and whiny kids and parents and it will feel like it will never end.  Jory’s team manages ‘crowd control’, ensuring no-one queue jumps and that order is maintained.  Parents can get quite feral at times.”  Sansa screwed her face at some memory.  “We try to be as quick as possible so that every child can meet Santa but some can take longer than normal.  You’ll need to quickly learn how to gently cut off a child who starts rattling off dozens of requests or you could easily get bogged down.  Sam’s reputation doesn’t help as he’s so popular that parents won’t go anywhere else.”

 

“One look at me and I’ll probably clear the room.  We’ll be able to knock off early,” he said half jokingly, half in hope.

 

“Why would that be?” she asked him, her blue eyes genuinely puzzled.

 

He pointed to the scars.  “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed these.  I scare grown men.”

 

Sansa shook her head.  “You underestimate children.  They’re a lot more accepting than you give them credit for.  They may ask you why you have scars, but if you just give them an answer, they’ll happily accept it and move on.  Besides, the beard and hat will cover most of them.  You’ll also have fake bushy eyebrows.  Most kids will never notice.”

 

“Don’t they scare you?”  Sandor mentally kicked himself.  He had no intention of discussing her reaction to his scars with her.  It just came out.

 

“No, why would they?” she asked him.  “They are just scars.  I’m sorry for the pain you must have gone through but it doesn’t make any difference to who you are.”

 

Sandor just looked at her.  Was she for real?  As well as being the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, she saw past his scars.  Not that she knew him, of course. 

 

Suddenly, he really wanted her to know him.  The real him.  The lonely, bitter man that spent most of his nights alone, occasionally meeting the only friend he had at the local pub for a drink. 

 

That was only a pipe dream.  Someone like her would never want someone like him.  Better just forget that thought.  Just get through the next eight days and then life will return to normal.

 

Alone.

 

Checking her watch, Sansa yelped a little.  “Time has flown this morning!  I need to get a move on.  There’s probably people already lining up out there.  Hurry up and get that beard on.”

 

Sandor sat at the mirror and grimaced as the bright lights highlighted every groove and crevice.  It was a dark red colour and though he’d had some corrective surgery over the years, nothing could erase the damage completely.

 

Taking a deep breath, he began putting on the fake hair.  He had no choice but to use the glue for the eyebrows.  He tightened the straps for the beard and it wasn’t too bad.  Once the hat went on, much of the scarring was covered, as Sansa had predicted.  He had tied his longish hair up and under the hat and looked in the mirror.

 

He supposed he could pass as Santa.  A slightly scary Santa, but a Santa, nonetheless.  The knock on the door came as he was pulling on the boots.  They were a little snug, but ok.  He considered buying them after this purgatory was done.  Footwear his size didn’t fall from trees, after all.

 

Sandor opened the door and was glad of both the beard and padding as they covered his visceral reaction to Sansa dressed as an elf.  She wore a white shirt in the style of a German milkmaid, that dipped low enough to expose the creamy skin of her throat.  It was modest enough not show cleavage, but Sandor’s imagination filled in the blanks. 

 

The green skirt was full with petticoats underneath to make it puffy and suspenders held it up.  The skirt fell to just above her knees, which were covered by green tights and finished off with shiny red, flat shoes.  She had put her hair up into a bun and had fake pointy ears and a pointy elf hat.

 

In a word, she looked adorable.

 

And totally fuckable.

 

“Wow, you look like a real Santa, Sandor,” she informed him.  “Not as good as Sam, of course, but you’ll do.”

 

“My life is now complete,” he replied sarcastically.

 

She just chuckled.  “Did you glue the beard?”

 

Suspecting that she would lecture him, Sandor lied and told her he had.  He hated liars, in general, but this was only a little white lie, he figured.

 

“I had a quick look outside and there is already a queue of about twenty families.”

 

Sandor’s eyebrows rose.  The fake ones did, at least.  “Fuck.”

 

“Language.”  Turning, she pointed to a red Santa sack in the corner.  “When we go outside, I’ll go first and you follow me, holding the sack.  You’ll need to do the usual ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’ and wave to the kids as you make your way to your seat.  There used to be a sack full of lollipops that we’d give to the kids after they had their photo, but with all the hooha about obesity, we’re not allowed to do that anymore.”

 

“Like one lollipop will make a difference,” he scoffed.

 

Sansa grimaced and nodded.  “Yeah, well.  It’s the rules now and we have to follow them.”  She looked at her watch as the sound of children drifted through the door.  “It’s nearly show time.”  She gave him a big smile.  “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Sandor.  I’ll be there to help you.”

 

That was only thing that would keep him going throughout this hellish day, he knew. 

 

Otherwise, it was going to be an absolute, fucking nightmare.

 

         


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sandor's first day as 'Santa' - this should be interesting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the embracing this story. I was watching 'Elf' as I edited this chapter and I was imagining Sandor being as enthusiastic as Buddy - nope, it didn't work, lol.

Sandor thought being burned by his brother was hell, but this was on a whole new level.

As soon as he’d walked out of the break room, the sound of screaming kids filled his ears, making him wince.

“SANTA! SANTA! SANTA!”

Mixed in with the shrieking were the crying babies and yelling parents.

“Ho, ho, ho, Sandor,” whispered Sansa as she led him to the seat.

“Ho, ho, ho,” he rasped, and instantly a couple of small children began crying. “Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho!”

Even to himself, he sounded menacing rather than jolly. Seeing as he was nearly a foot taller than Sam, he presented a rather formidable figure. He waved to a little girl who looked at him with huge eyes before hiding her face in her mother’s legs.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

He also heard the mutterings of parents who had not realised that the regular Santa, the one they came here especially to see, was not here.

Jory, a middle-aged guy with a friendly, open face, had placed a couple of signs advising parents of the change but, as per usual, it looked like nobody had read them.

It was one of Sandor’s bug-bears. There were fucking signs for everything, yet people always played dumb or actually were dumb enough to never bother reading them. A time or two he’d been tempted to push some dumb-arse’s face through the sign that if they’d bothered reading, would have saved a lot of strife.

“That’s not the Santa we came for,” yelled out an irate mother.

Sansa rushed over and pointed to the sign. “I’m sorry but our regular Santa had an unfortunate accident and will be unavailable for the rest of the year, but we have a wonderful new Santa to fill in.”

The woman grumbled about how inconsiderate it was to have an accident at this time of the year, as if Sam had any control over it.

Sandor sat on the oversized seat shaped like a sleigh and listened to the complaints, watching as Sansa attempted to placate them. He felt a little sorry for her and wanted to go over there and yell at those selfish idiots.

Christmas spirit – my arse!

A handful of parents left the queue, not wanting a photo with anyone but the ‘real’ Santa and that was just fine and dandy with Sandor. The whole lot of them could go home, as far as he was concerned.

Finally, Sansa let the first children come up to him. It was a brother and sister who looked at him with a certain amount of awe.

“Uh…um…hello,” he rasped a little too loudly, making the little girl whimper.

“You need to tone it down a little,” whispered Sansa as she directed the children into position on his lap. “Ask them their name and what they want from Santa."

“Oh, ok.” Sandor looked at the children warily, his hands automatically reaching out to keep them steady. They looked tiny on his lap, eyes huge as they had to look up and up and up. “Ah, hello. I’m Santa. Who are you?”

Sansa, who was standing behind the camera, winced a little.

“I’m Loras and that’s Margaery. And I know you’re Santa. I’m not dumb, you know.”

Sandor cocked his eyebrow at the little smart-arse. “Maybe not, but you’ve got a big mouth on you.” He didn’t imagine the gasps from the queue. Ok, maybe not a good thing to say to a kid. “Uh, so, what do you want me to bring you for Christmas?”

Margaery piped up then. “I want a pony!”

“I want a new PS4,” added her brother.

“What’s a PS4?” Sandor had absolutely no idea about what kids wanted these days.

Loras rolled his eyes. “It’s a computer game console,” he drawled sarcastically. “What kind of Santa doesn’t know that?”

Little shit! “Oh, yeah. The elves put all that stuff together for me, that’s why I forgot.”

“I want a pony!”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. You can get a pony.” Anything to shut her up, which must have worked because she beamed and bounced on his leg in excitement.

“I’m getting a pony! I’m getting a pony, Mumma!”

A rather overdone woman standing near Sansa glared at him while smiling weakly at her daughter.

Sansa stepped in at that point. “Ok, kids, let’s get a lovely photo with Santa for your mum. Now sit lovely and still and…perfect!”

The mother waved at the kids, who promptly jumped off his lap but not before Loras turned back to him. “I don’t think you’re the real Santa, anyway.”

“Yeah? Then be prepared to get jack-shit on Christmas morning then,” he whispered back, smirking when the boy’s face dropped in horror.

The rest of the morning before the break was a similar tale of snarky kids, crying babies (why the fuck did parents force kids to take a photo with some weird stranger in a red suit and be happy about it but then spout ‘don’t talk to strangers’ in the same breath?) and harassed parents.

It was only three hours but Sandor was ready to lay down and die. He still had another five hours of this!

The only thing that made it even vaguely bearable was the fact that Sansa was there. When he wasn’t spouting some lie to some kid or grimacing at the camera, he watched her.

She was amazing. Like some bird of paradise, she smiled and fluttered around, giving him helpful hints on the sly, placating parents and taking great photos on top of it, with often very unhelpful subjects.

And he wanted nothing more than to taste her.

If Santa was real, that’s what he’d ask for. Sansa. But of course, he’s not and Sandor was Sandor, so it was just a dream.

Entering the break room, Sandor took off the hat and flopped down on the couch, already exhausted.

“You were great, Sandor,” beamed Sansa, reaching into the fridge. “I only had to remind you not to swear five times. Water?”

“Anything stronger? Like straight whiskey to numb the pain?”

Sansa giggled. “No. It wouldn’t do to have a drunk Santa out there.”

“Only one that has no fucking idea what he’s doing and managed to make at least six kids cry,” he retorted.

“Yes, well, it wasn’t too bad, considering,” she reassured him.

“Do I have to go back out there?” he whined. Sandor never whined. Ever.

“Unless you want to get fired, then, yes,” replied Sansa. “Here, have something to eat. We’ve got 45 minutes and another break in two and a half hours before the home stretch.”

“How do you do it? How the fuck do you deal with that craziness out there?” Sandor was genuinely curious.  These eight days couldn’t go fast enough and she was the personification of the Christmas spirit.

Sansa shrugged. “I love it. This is my third year doing this.”

“What do you do when you’re not taking pictures of snotty kids with Santa?”

“Taking pictures of snotty kids with their families,” she quipped. “I take pictures of everything. Kids, animals, landscapes, whatever. I get commissions for portraits a lot, often while doing this work. My business details are printed on the receipts, so I’ll get phone calls to come out and photograph the family or the family dog, or whatever else they want captured. Being a high-end store, a lot of the families are well off.”

Pulling the beard over his head, Sandor took a bite of his gourmet sandwich. It was better than the pokey sandwiches he brought to work. When Sansa laughed, he looked at her quizzically.

“Your beard. It looks ridiculous sticking up from the top of your head,” she explained.

Sandor grinned and took the whole thing off. “Better?”

She cocked her head and looked at him, a strange look on her face. “Much.”

They were staring at each other, Sandor wondering what the hell was going on when Jory entered the room, ending the moment.

If there even _was_ a moment. Sandor was confused.

Way too soon, it was time to go back out into the fray. Sansa gave him a once over to ensure everything was in the right place, her eyes lingering on his hands as he adjusted the hat before pulling on the white gloves that barely fit his fingers.

Sandor decided that he hated Varys with a vengeance and hoped that the bald-headed wanker choked on a turkey bone or was poisoned by his Christmas pudding.

This last shift was the worst of the three. Whether it was because the kids were tired and more fractious, or the parents were over standing in line and just wanted to go home or because his temper was holding on by a thread, it was a nightmare. Even Sansa struggled to keep her smile on.

It seemed that every child was being a pain in the arse. Sansa had cautioned him on promising things that parents would find difficult or impossible to fulfil – elephants, a pool, a new mother or father.

There was only around an hour to go when a mean looking kid came up to him. Sandor already wanted to thump the little bugger as he’d had the nerve to pinch Sansa’s bottom, making her yelp in surprise.

“Watch it!” he growled. “Touch her again and I’ll break that finger.” The kid just sneered at him. “What’s your name?”

“Meryn, and you’re a fake.”

“Meryn, sweetie, be nice to Santa,” called out his mother, a cowed looking woman who looked like the weight of the world was her shoulders.

“Shut up, Mum.”

“Have some respect, you little shit,” warned Sandor. “If you were my son, I’d give you hiding that would have you crying for hours.”

“Child Protection would be on you, fake Santa,” retorted Meryn.

“Not if they couldn’t find your body.” The kid’s eyes widened a little.

Sansa, sensing disaster, tried to intervene. “Ok - Meryn, is it? – how about we get a gorgeous photo for your mother?”

“Can you sit on my lap, sexy thing?”

Sandor’s eyesbrows shot up. How old was this kid, anyway? He didn’t look more than ten but had the attitude of a thirty year old.

“Right, one more word out of you and I’ll be the one throwing you head first out of the store, you hear me?” warned Sandor.

Meryn turned to him, and with an evil smirk on his face, yanked the beard so hard that it dislodged Sandor’s hat and snapped the fastener.

Children in the line began crying and yelling that Santa wasn’t real, harried parents trying to shush them and glaring both at Sandor and Meryn.

“Meryn! Oh, how could you?” cried his mother.

Sandor, infuriated and wishing this kid was an adult so that he could beat the crap out of him, stood up and grabbed the portly kid around the middle. Without a word, he walked through the crowd, who were now gaping at the spectacle and with Meryn kicking and screaming, headed towards the nearest exit.

“Sandor! Stop!” cried Sansa, taking hold of his arm, which he yanked away. “Where are you going? Oh no!”

Seeing red, Sandor carried the squirming boy to the side fire exit, not caring that the alarm would be set off, Meryn’s distressed mother following. Pushing it open, Sandor set the boy roughly down on the ground, the siren blaring. “If I see you anywhere near here again, I’ll do more than just toss you out, you little arsehole.” Turning to the boy’s mother, Sandor glared. “Your parenting leaves a lot to be desired.”

With that, he turned and slammed the door shut, which turned off the sirens. Another security guard had run down to see about the alarm, skidding to a surprised halt when he saw Sandor, dressed as Santa, sans beard and hat, standing there.

“It’s fine, Oakheart. Just getting rid of something. You can return to your station,” assured Sandor.

Sansa sat on the Santa chair wringing her hands. The crowds of families had dispersed, though some still hung around just to see what was going to happen.

It seemed that Santa photos were finished early for the day.

Thank fuck!!

Upon seeing him, she grabbed the beard and hat and met him near the door of the break room. “Sandor? What did you do?”

“Threw the little shit out the fire exit. Deserved a hiding, that one.”

“Oh dear, Sandor. You could get in all sorts of trouble if they make a complaint,” warned Sansa.

Sandor flopped on the couch and sighed. “Good. Let them. If it means I don’t have to do this again, then fuck them.”

Sitting next to him, he could smell her perfume which had tormented him all day. “What if you lose your job? Or if they sue you?”

Shit, he hadn’t thought of that. Damned temper got the better of him. “At this point, I don’t give a shit, Little Bird. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Little Bird?”

Without the benefit of the fake beard, there was no covering the faint flush that crept onto his face at blurting out the name he’d been calling her in his head all day.

“Uh, you…um…you chirp at the kids and parents all day…like…like a pretty bird.”

Instead of being offended, as he’d believed she would be, Sansa beamed at him. “I like it. I’ve never had a real nickname.”

“Oh, okay…”

The door flew open and Mr Varys stormed in, bald head gleaming in the lights. “Mr Clegane! What’s this I hear about you threatening a child and opening a fire exit without authorisation? You have one job – take photos and promise the world to the little ferals. How hard is it to do without causing mayhem?”

“Mr Varys, in Sandor’s defence…” began Sansa.

“Excuse me, Miss Stark, but this is not your problem.”

“The little shit started it,” protested Sandor.

“I don’t care what the child did, you DO NOT ATTACK THE CUSTOMERS!”

Sandor was somewhat taken aback. He’d never seen the man lose his cool. It was entertaining in a way.

“I didn’t attack him. I evicted him from the premises. And I’m quite happy to go back to my regular job, in fact, I’m begging you to let me go back, since I’m obviously not cut out to be a Santa impersonator.”

“You are lucky the complaints came from other witnesses and not the boy or his mother themselves, or I would have evict you from the premises, Mr Clegane. As it stands, I still don’t have a replacement and you will continue being Santa. And I don’t want any more incidents. Is that clear?”

Sandor was this close to telling the little man to shove it, but the chances of finding another job so close to Christmas were pretty slim. He saw Sansa biting her lip nervously as she watched the confrontation and decided getting to spend more time with her, even if – when - nothing came of it, was worth it. Maybe. He nodded.

“Very well. Good night Miss Stark. Mr Clegane.”

Jory came in as Mr Varys left, grinning wildly. “Man, that was awesome! I don’t know how many times I’ve wished Sam would do the same thing.” He gave a surprised Sandor a high five.

“Jory, Sandor could have been in huge trouble,” chided Sansa.

“I bet you anything that goes up on Youtube,” Jory pointed out. “You’re gonna be famous, Sandor, my man.”

“Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should have used the glue!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two! Will Sandor use that glue now? Will Sansa help him with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your response to my story! I was hoping to get it all finished by Christmas but I don't think it will happen - it will be a gift that keeps on giving, even after Christmas :-)

Sure enough, someone posted a video of Sandor carrying Merryn through the department store and it was an instant hit.  Contrary to expectations though, most of the comments were positive and congratulated him on not letting the kids get away with that sort of behaviour.

 

Sandor only knew this because Sansa showed him the video when he turned up the next day.  She stood very close as she held her phone up for him to watch, the smell of roses wafting into his nose, making his pulse race. 

 

“I hope Mr Varys doesn’t see this,” she said with a small chuckle.  “I doubt he’d see this as positive advertising.”

 

“Might be there’ll be no-one coming now they’ve seen this,” said Sandor, hopefully.

 

“We’ll see.  Are you going to glue the beard on today?  After yesterday?”  She looked closely at his face, with no sign of disgust at the sight of the scars.  “I’ll help you, if you like.  I used to help Sam sometimes.” 

 

Fuck, to have the Little Bird that close!  He’d self-combust for sure.  “Um, yeah, sure.  It…it doesn’t repulse you?”

 

Her gorgeous blue eyes flashed with some emotion.  “Of course not!  Why would it?  It’s just skin.  Why?  Have other people reacted badly to it?”

 

“All the fucking time, Little Bird.”

 

“Well, they’re idiots,” she replied emphatically.  “And I’m no idiot.”  With that, she turned and walked into her dressing room, leaving him gaping like a fish.

 

Was she flirting with him? 

 

Still pondering that question, Sandor dressed in the hated suit.  Only seven more days of this hell.

 

A knock sounded. 

 

The only good thing about the next seven days.

 

“Ready for me, Sandor?”

 

_Always_.  “Yeah, come on in, Little Bird.”  He nearly groaned as she walked in.  He’d forgotten how enticing she looked in her elf get-up. 

 

“Ok, sit at the mirror and I’ll apply the glue and beard.  I promise it will come off easily.”

 

“The skin’s a bit sensitive there,” he murmured.

 

A look of sympathy suffused her face as she placed her hand on his shoulder.  “If it gets uncomfortable, I’ll take it off in the break, all right?”

 

Sandor could have spent the next millennium looking into those eyes.  “Sure, Little Bird.”

 

“Great.  Usually I sit next to Sam but you’re so lovely and tall, I’ll just stand and apply the glue.”

 

The next five minutes were absolute torture for Sandor.  Sansa stood so close his face was practically in her cleavage.  As much as he didn’t intend to ogle her breasts, he was only human, and his mouth watered as he took in the creamy skin of her chest and the shape of those perfectly rounded mounds.  A slight movement and he could have one of those in his mouth.  Gods, he craved a taste of her.

 

Forcing his eyes off her breasts, he looked up and knew he’d been caught.  He expected a sound scolding for being a pervert, or even a slap, but instead, a tiny smile graced her face.  Now he was even more confused than before.

 

“Your skin is very soft, even the scars,” she commented softly.  “I like your stubble.  It’s very sexy.”

 

_Fuck.  Me.  Dead_.

 

She _was_ flirting.  Even an idiot like him recognised it as such.

 

“Shame it has to be covered by the fake one but you are Santa, so…”

 

“Th…thanks.  Your skin looks delici…um…soft too.”

 

Unconsciously, her fingers were stroking the side of his neck and his cock was straining even the padding.  “Glad you think so.  I rub moisturiser all over my body after my shower.”

 

A low moan escaped his lips, unmissed by her, as evidenced by her growing smile.  “Do you rub lotion on yourself?”

 

“No, but maybe y…I should,” he croaked.

 

“Mmm, maybe I…you should.”

 

The sound of the outer door opening was the only thing that stopped him from ripping off the infernal Santa suit and ravishing her right there on the counter.

 

Jumping slightly at the intrusion, Sansa finished applying the glue and beard to his face.  “Give it a couple minutes and it should be very secure.”

 

“Thanks, Little Bird,” he rasped, still in a haze of desire. 

 

Despite what they’d thought, there seemed to be even more people lined up to take their photo with him.  Now, instead of mainly children and their parents, there were also groups of teenage girls and boys who wanted to take a photo with the bad-arse Santa from the internet.

 

And, maybe because of his new-found notoriety, they seemed a lot more well-behaved than the previous day.   Of course, the young children still played up but Sandor was okay with that. 

 

He found himself very uncomfortable holding the young babies.  He was afraid he would break them but Sansa would whisper that he was doing fine as she arranged them in his arms, giving him a sweet, encouraging smile.

 

A group of teenage girls giggled their way through the whole photoshoot and a couple of them asked if they could sit on his lap.  Sandor looked helplessly at Sansa, silently asking her advice.  She nodded slightly, amusement radiating off her.

 

Luckily, the padding prevented the girls from getting too close and kept the whole thing appropriate, plus there were many witnesses watching the whole proceedings.  He ended up with two on his lap and two beside him.

 

“I’m Myranda and I can’t wait to see you come down my chimney, Santa,” one of the girls on his lap said, setting all of them giggling.  “It’s in my bedroom.”

 

For fuck’s sake!  What was wrong with youth today?  They were children!

 

“The only thing coming down your chimney, young lady, is soot.  Behave yourself,” he admonished her.

 

Honestly, no-one had flirted with him for years, and now two females had in one day but only one was welcomed.  Teenage girls barely out of toddling pants didn’t count.

 

Towards the end of the day, a young girl of about six came up and eagerly sat on his lap.

 

“And what’s your name, little girl?”  He was getting better at this.  He’d only scared a handful of kids today.

 

“Elia, and you’ve got scars like me,” she piped in cheerfully.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Your face.  It’s like my tummy and legs.  Look.”   She lifted the bottom of her sweater and Sandor saw the mess of scars that marred her little body.  “How did you get yours, Santa?”

 

Gulping, he leaned towards her ear.  “I got burned by fire in my fireplace when I was about your age.  How about you?”

 

“I ‘ccidently pulled a pot of boiling water on me, Mummy told me.  I can’t really ‘member it as I was only little.  About four.”

 

Sandor could feel a lump fill his throat as Elia prattled happily away.  So little, like he was, to endure such pain.  He was glad the little tyke could cover most of it up with clothes, for her sake.  He hated to think of her growing up enduring the teasing and abuse he’d suffered.

 

“Well, you are very brave.  And your scars prove that.  And don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise, ok?” he croaked out.  “How about we take a really great photo that you can keep to remind you that you are special and brave?”

 

“Like you?”

 

If she didn’t take the photo soon, Sandor was going to lose it.  And he’d never done that.  Ever.

 

“Nah, you’re way more special than me, Elia.  And much prettier?  Don’t you think, Sansa?”

 

“Oh, definitely much prettier, Santa,” replied Sansa as she readied the camera.

 

“Are you Santa’s wife?” the little girl asked innocently.  “Your names match.”

 

Sansa’s cheeks were slightly rosy as she looked at Sandor for a moment before answering.  “Oh no!  I’m just Santa’s helper.”

 

“You’re very pretty.  Isn’t she, Santa?”

 

Sandor looked at the Little Bird and nodded.  “Yes, she is.  Very pretty.”

 

“Ok, let’s get a fantastic photo!”

 

He was still thinking about the little girl, Elia, when the day ended and they returned to the dressing room. 

 

Of course, their situations were different in that hers had been an accident whilst he had been deliberately burned by his brother, but she was still such a happy child despite the ordeal she’d endured. 

 

Whereas he’d turned bitter, not without reason, he sincerely hoped that she would stay the open, friendly child she was now.

 

Absentmindedly, he began peeling off the layers and padding, leaving only the beard to come off.  He was standing in only in his jeans when Sansa knocked on the door.

 

“I’ve come to help take off…”  Her voice drifted away as she took in his bare upper body.  Her eyes roamed over his shoulders and down his chest, lingering on every dip and hollow as they made way down towards his navel and further down to the bulge in his jeans.  When she licked her lips quickly, Sandor felt the bulge grow.  “…your beard.”

 

“Where do you want me?”  If she could flirt, so could he, though he didn’t know a thing about it.

 

Her eyes widened slightly at the innuendo.  “The chair will do nicely.”

 

_Oh, I’m sure it would_ , he thought.  _The things we could do on that chair_.

 

 Sandor sat back, legs splayed, as she came closer.  He remembered seeing a documentary where this was called ‘displaying’ in technical terms, though it probably only applied to animals. 

 

Sansa proceeded to apply the moisturiser, touching him on the face, neck and chest as she worked.  A few times, he felt her fingers rub softly and his heart thumped in response.  Ever so gently, she pulled off the beard and cleansed his skin.  She was so close her breath fanned over his face.

 

“There,” she said huskily.  “All done.”  Their eyes met and held, both of them seeming to hold their breath as if waiting to see who would move first.

 

The sound of the door slamming decided for them.  Sansa moved back, wiping her hands and turning towards the door.  “I’ll let you finish dressing.”

 

Damn!  He should have taken the chance and kissed her.  As she reached the door, she turned back.  “Um, I’m going to visit Sam in hospital.  Do you…would you like to come with me?”

 

The thought of facing the man whom he’d put in hospital wasn’t appealing in any way but the chance to spend more time in her company was too much to resist.  “Sure, Little Bird.”

 

Sansa beamed.  “Great!  We could grab a bite afterwards, if you like?”

 

This was getting better and better.  “Sounds good.  Do you want to ride with me?”

 

“Oh, I’ve got my car here and I’ll need it in the morning to get to work.”

 

“No problem, Little Bird.  I’ll take you home and pick you up in the morning.  If you want.”

 

“You sure?” she asked anxiously.

 

“Yes.  Go get your things and we’ll go.  You’ll have to tell me which hospital though.”

 

Sandor wanted to fist pump the air when she left.  He was going to spend hours in her company.  Alone.  Well, other than facing Sam Tarly.  At this moment, he couldn’t even regret breaking the man’s leg.  It had allowed him to meet this gorgeous girl.

 

She was wearing tight jeans with a soft blue sweater that hugged her curves like a lover.  He wanted to be that sweater.  Boots with a small heel and a floppy woollen cap that made her look so cute, topped off the look.  She was carrying her light pink coat on her arm.

 

“You look cute, Little Bird.”

 

Sansa flushed and smiled.  “Thank you.  Shall we go?”

 

As they entered the employee carpark, she put on her coat and Sandor would have sworn she was some sort of fashion model.  Not that he knew anything about that sort of thing, but this woman was stunning. 

 

What was she doing with him?  Giving him signals that she was interested in him?

 

All of Sandor’s insecurities rose up to taunt him and the drive to the hospital was silent, at least on his part.  Sansa chatted but when she only got single word answers, she fell silent too.

 

The look on Sam Tarly’s face when Sandor walked in lowered his mood even more.  It was a look of apprehension mixed with terror.

 

“I’m not here to attack you,” growled Sandor, making the portly man tremble.  “Look, I’m sorry you’re here.  It was an honest mistake.”

 

Sansa looked quizzically between the two men. 

 

“Um, it’s…it’s alright,” replied Sam.  “I’ll be right as rain soon.”

 

“Sandor’s been doing a fine job while you’re out of action, Sam,” assured Sansa. 

 

Sam’s eyes seem to boggle out of his head.  “You…you’re replacing me?”

 

“Yeah, crazy, right?” nodded Sandor.  “Mr Varys didn’t give me much of a choice.  And I’m only standing in for you.  I’m sure everyone, especially the kids, will be glad to see you back next Christmas.”

 

“Wow,”  marvelled Sam, shaking his head.

 

After visiting for around twenty minutes, they bid Sam goodbye and headed back to his car.

 

“Look, I’ve obviously upset you in some way so you can just drop me home,” stated Sansa, looking at the ground.

 

Sandor realised that his own insecurities were going to push this girl away before he even found out if she was truly interested in him.  She had been nothing but sweet to him and she didn’t deserve his attitude.

 

“No, Little Bird, you haven’t done a thing.  It’s me.  I’m a moody bastard at times and I was nervous about seeing Sam.  If you don’t think I’m a complete arsehole, I would still like to go to dinner with you.”

 

Her smile grew and she nodded.  “I’d like that too.”

 

Telling him she really felt like a juicy steak, he took her to a steak house that was one of his favourites.  “A woman after my own heart,” he half joked.

 

Sandor couldn’t ever remember enjoying dinner so much.  He’d never been much of a talker but Sansa more than made up for it.  She kept him entertained with stories of some her photographic adventures and disasters.  He told her of his time in the army and then how he fell into security.

 

“Playing Santa was never one of my career ambitions, believe it or not,” he drawled before telling her whole story of Sam’s injury

 

“But you’re doing so well, despite making children cry and throwing out annoying children,” she laughed. 

 

“And did you always want to be a sexy elf?”

 

“Sexy?”

 

Sandor nodded.  “Very sexy.”

 

She flushed and gulped another sip of her wine.  “No one ever called me a sexy elf before.”

 

“They were blind idiots then.”

 

“Can I tell you a secret?” she said in a low voice.  He nodded.  “I’m glad you broke Sam’s leg.  I mean, I feel bad for him, but I’m glad I got to know you.”

 

“Me too, Little Bird.  Me too.”

 

Sansa gave him directions to her apartment block and the drive there was much better than the previous drive.  He pulled up near the entrance and turned off the engine.  It was much later than he’d imagined as the time had flown.

 

Taking off her seatbelt, she turned to him.  “Would…would you like to come up?”

 

Sandor looked at her and realised he wanted more than just a casual fling.  This woman was everything he’d never thought he wanted.  Never had any hopes of finding.  If he went up now, they’d probably sleep together but what then?

 

“I’d love to, Little Bird.  More than you know, but I won’t.”  Her face fell.  “I…I really like you, Sansa, and I don’t want just a fling with you.  I only met you yesterday.  I’ll probably kick myself the moment I leave here, but…”

 

Sansa reached out and took his hand in hers.  “I understand, Sandor.  I really like you too.  I really want to get to know you better and you’re right, it’s too soon.  I’ve never been casual about these things, but I’ve never met anyone that made me feel like you do.”

 

“How do I make you feel?”

 

“Trembly and tingly and like I want to kiss you for hours.”

 

Sandor sucked in his breath and leaned towards her.  She met him halfway as their lips joined for the first time. 

 

It was more than he’d dreamed.  Taking her in his arms, he deepened the kiss, licking her lower lip, begging for entrance.  She gasped softly and he took his chance, tasting her properly. 

 

Arms tightening around his neck, Sansa returned the caress as the kiss, which began as soft and tender quickly became hot and heavy, lips and tongues giving and taking in equal measure.

 

The windows fogged up as the heat between them quickly escalated, lost in each other.  Sandor’s hand moved to gently squeeze her breast over her sweater, wishing he’d taken the opportunity to bed her.  Sansa moaned as he fondled her, her own hand rubbing the skin of his neck inside the collar.

 

The honking of the horn by his elbow brought them back to reality, and they pulled apart, both breathing heavily.

 

“Little Bird,” he whispered, kissing her lightly.

 

“Mmm, Sandor,” she moaned.  “Won’t you change your mind?”

 

“It’s getting late and I don’t want to rush this, Little Bird.  I want to take my time to touch and taste every bit of you.  Do you understand?”

 

Sansa nodded with a dreamy smile.  “That sounds glorious.”

 

“Let me walk you up.”  If he didn’t say goodnight soon, all his good intentions would fly out the window.

 

Refusing to give into temptation, he didn’t enter her apartment, only kissing her hungrily one last time and pushing her gently inside.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Little Bird.”

 

“Will you dream of me, Sandor?”

 

“If I have any say in it, every moment of the night.”

 

Sansa sighed happily.  “Goodnight.”

 

“’Night, Little Bird.  Sweet dreams.”

 

“If they’re of you, they will be.”

 

Sandor didn’t even remember the drive home, his head completely lost in Sansa-shaped clouds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my idea of what Sandor looked like in that dressing room. All right - I just like that picture!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santa's more popular than ever but it's not always a good thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad so many of you liked my vision of Sandor (or a chance for some gratuitous perving in truth, lol)! If the Santa in the store looked like that (and wore that) I'd be sitting on his lap everyday!

Sandor had never been so eager to go to work in his life.

 

With a spring in his step that was felt, more than seen, he raced up the stairs to Sansa’s apartment.

 

Her eyes still held a touch of sleep and she hadn’t brushed her hair but he thought she was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen.

 

“Sandor, you’re early!” she exclaimed with a smile on her face as she stepped back to let him in.

 

“I…I…I’m an early riser,” he muttered, unable to admit that he couldn’t wait another moment to see her again.  It sounded way too soppy, even if it was the truth.

 

“Well, as you can see, I’m not quite ready.  Have you had breakfast?  Help yourself to coffee or whatever while I finish getting ready.”

 

He nodded as he stepped closer, tilting her chin up and kissing her gently on the lips.  Aware that they had to leave soon, he didn’t deepen the kiss, as much as he wanted to.  Reluctantly pulling away, he leaned his forehead on hers.  “Good morning, Little Bird.”

 

Sansa released a dreamy sigh.  “Good morning, Sandor.”

 

They stood for a few moments, foreheads touching as they gazed at each other in silence.  “Do we have to go to work, Little Bird?” he whispered.

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied with a tender smile.  “I love my job, but I would like nothing more than to stay here all day alone with you.”

 

Sandor’s heart soared and he kissed her again.  How could she be real?  Someone so perfect as her.  How did it come to this after only two days?

 

Just as the kiss deepened, he pulled away.  “Go get ready, Little Bird.  I’ll just make myself a coffee, if that’s okay with you?”

 

Sansa nodded.  “Make me one too, will you?”

 

While she was getting ready, Sandor made the drinks and fantasised about what her bedroom looked like.  She looked like the type to have fluffy pillows and a luxurious duvet that would set off her naked skin perfectly.  He wanted to gaze upon her like that, lying nude on her bed, looking at him with no attempt to conceal her desire.

 

He may have even had that last night, if he’d taken her up on her unspoken offer.  Instead, he’d lain in his own cold bed, cock so stiff that he’d had to take himself in hand three times during the night as erotic dreams of her made it near impossible to sleep peacefully.  He wondered if Sansa had had the same problem.

 

Taking a sip of coffee, he looked around the apartment.  Like her, it was bright and airy with colourful pillows and throws scattered on the lounge and matching chairs.  She had candles everywhere as well as framed photos on the wall.  Most were landscapes but a few were of people and animals.  He wondered if she had taken the photos herself.  He was looking at portrait of an older couple who were hugging and smiling at the camera when she came back out.

 

“They were my parents,” she told him, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

 

“Were?”

 

“They were killed nearly three and half years ago.  Road accident.  A truck lost control on the highway they were on, hitting them head-on.  They died instantly.  At least they went together – they would have been lost without the other.”

 

“I’m sorry, Little Bird,” he rasped.

 

Sansa smiled sadly.  “It still hurts, especially at this time, as they loved everything about Christmas, but I’ve grown used to not having them around.  At least I still have my siblings and cousin.”

 

“How many do you have?”

 

“A sister and three brothers, as well as a cousin who grew up with us and their partners.  We try and keep up the traditions they loved at Christmas.  How about you?”

 

He wasn’t ready to tell her the whole story about his dysfunctional family yet, especially considering how close to her family she seemed to be.  “My parents died years ago and I have a brother I haven’t seen in years.  Don’t want to see again, either.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sandor,” she said, placing her hand on his chest, warming him up on the inside. 

 

“It’s a long story, Little Bird, one I’ll tell you in detail some other time, but suffice to say that my brother is in jail, will be there for the rest of his life, and he’s not someone I ever want you to meet.”

 

Sansa’s mouth had dropped open as he spoke but then nodded in understanding.  “Whenever you’re ready, Sandor.  We have lots of time.”

 

Did that mean she could see some sort of future for them?  Already?  That she thought there might be something special between them?

 

Sandor nodded, a lightness growing inside him.  “I hope so, Little Bird,” he rasped softly.

 

“I’d better drink my coffee so we can get going.  I wonder how many people we’ll get today?”

 

He groaned at the reminder.  “How many more days of this?”

 

“Six”

 

“You’re the only thing that’s going to get me through this, Little Bird.”

 

“But you’re getting so much better at it!  I’m having to prompt you less and less,” protested Sansa.  “And you don’t really dislike children.  You just hadn’t been exposed to them before now.”

 

“Did I have to get thrown in the deep end?  Like, maybe meeting just one child instead of hundreds of them?”

 

“Well, you _did_ break Sam’s leg,” she pointed out with a smirk.

 

“Will I never live that down,” he growled. 

 

“Not this Christmas, at any rate,” she answered.  “Come on, Santa, let’s go.  Your fans await you.”

 

Whilst probably not considering himself a fan, Mr Varys was waiting for them when they arrived.

 

“What now?” muttered Sandor under his breath. 

 

“Mr Clegane,” Mr Varys greeted him rather cordially.  “I came down here to let you know that because of you, our sales have risen by 35 percent and the number of Santa photos is 25 percent higher.”  Mr Varys was almost rubbing his hands with glee.  “Your little stunt a couple days ago has really paid off.”

 

Mr Varys had been nearly ropable over his ‘little stunt’ a couple of days ago, and now this?  “It was no stunt, sir,”

 

The bald man waved away his words.  “Whatever, your video has gone viral and the line out there is already huge.  I may have to keep you on as our Santa next year.”

 

Sandor’s eyes widened in horror.  Another year of this?  And for weeks, not just eight days?  No, no, no, no.  Fuck no.

 

“What about Sam Tarly?  He’s your real Santa.  I’m just the stand-in.  I’m in security, sir.  No disrespect, but I’m not cut out to do this for weeks on end.”

 

“Sir, Sam would be devastated,” Sansa piped in.  “He’s already itching to get back to it.”

 

“Yes, and all this fuckery will be forgotten the moment Christmas is over,” added Sandor, somewhat desperately.  “Everything will go back to how it’s meant to be – Sansa taking photos, Sam being Santa, and me running the security of this store.”

 

Mr Varys pondered his words before nodding.  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.  Plus, we’d have to get another suit especially made for your proportions.  Probably two.  Santa suits – good Santa suits – don’t come cheap.  But at least I’ll know where to go if I need back up now.”

 

Sandor would become Sam’s personal bodyguard, if need be, to ensure that didn’t happen, he thought. 

 

Bidding them goodbye, Mr Varys left to allow them to get ready for the day.

 

Sandor found he was getting much faster at putting on the Santa suit, so that he was well and truly ready when Sansa came in to help put on the beard. 

 

“I don’t mind this part,” he murmured as she applied the glue, in between pecks on the lips, careful not to get glue on her own face.

 

“It’s never been quite this fun, I have to admit,” giggled Sansa.  “I was never tempted to do more than apply glue to Sam’s face, not that he needed much help.”

 

“Glad to hear it, Little Bird.  If I thought differently, I might need to reconsider my position as Santa for next year.”

 

They looked at each other, Sandor’s implied words not missed by either of them. 

 

That they would still be together this time next year.

 

True to Mr Varys’ word, the queue was the longest so far.

 

Sandor now had adults and couples wanting a Santa photo.  Instead of just their children in the shot, the whole family was joining in.  It got very squeezy at times.

 

He got more propositions from women that day than he’d had in his entire life.  He didn’t take any of them seriously, even if it weren’t for Sansa.  He knew that if they saw him without the fake beard, all his scars on display, they would never make the offer.

 

Sandor was exhausted by the endless customers and he couldn’t imagine how Sansa was feeling, seeing as she was on her feet for most of the time.  At least he got to sit down.

 

During their breaks, Sandor offered to rub her sore feet, Jory’s brows raising in surprise at this unexpected intimacy.  Ignoring his speculative looks, Sandor rubbed her dainty feet, despite her height – they were dainty in comparison to his – making her sigh in relief.

 

“Oh, that’s _so_ good, Sandor,” she moaned softly as he pressed harder on a particular spot.

 

Sandor’s cock strained painfully against its restraints at her words.  Vivid images of her saying those words as he fucked her flooded his mind.  It was torture to not be able to respond, not with Jory and some of his team in the room.

 

“Feel better?” he murmured, looking at her heatedly.

 

Sansa opened her eyes, her gaze languid.  “Mmm, yes.  Thank you, Sandor.”

 

Giving her foot and ankle one last surreptitious caress, he let her go, reaching for a sandwich.  She did the same, slyly rubbing his thigh under the guise of reaching for her shoe.

 

The material of the suit was thick but he felt as if her touch burned him, though it was a good burn, the only kind of burn he’d gladly suffer.

 

Other than the usual children and families that afternoon, a lone woman came up for a photo.  Sandor’s eyes couldn’t help widening as he took in the rather impressive cleavage on her.

 

“Hi, Santa, I’m Ros,” she purred as she placed herself right down on his lap, her arm wrapping around his neck.  She was also a red-headed but it wasn’t as bright as Sansa’s.  “Mmm, Santa, what strong thighs you have.”

 

“Ah…um…yeah,” mumbled Sandor, somewhat surprised at her forwardness right here in front of so many people.  “Hi, Ros.  What do you want from Santa this year?”

 

Pulling his head down, she whispered suggestively in his ear.  “I saw you on the internet, without the beard, and I want to deck your halls, baby, until you can’t speak.”

 

Sandor reared back, nearly giving himself whiplash and glanced at Sansa. 

 

She was glaring daggers at Ros, her cheeks bright with anger. 

 

“Um, thanks for the offer, but I’m not available,” he told her.

 

“Aww, are you sure?  I could make you forget everything else, honey,” she purred, wiggling suggestively.

 

“Santa said he’s not available,” Sansa interrupted curtly.  “I suggest we take this photo so you can be on your way.”

 

Ros gave Sansa a disdainful once over.  “And are you his keeper, little girl?”

 

Sansa gasped at the insult.  A professional ‘till the end, Sansa bent closer on the pretext of posing Ros and took her hand, squeezing her finger until Ros gasped.  “No, I’m his girlfriend, bitch, so lay off!”

 

To say Sandor was stunned, and ridiculously pleased, by Sansa’s show of possessiveness, was an understatement. 

 

She called herself his girlfriend!  She wanted to be his girlfriend! 

 

He barely noticed Ros getting up and stalking off without a photo, so dazed as he was.  He watched his Little Bird, fiddling with her camera, talking to next child, looking everywhere but him.

 

Sandor barely recalled anything that happened for the rest of the shift.  He watched Sansa, noticed her stiff movements and her avoidance of his gaze.

 

Did she regret what she said?  Did she not mean it?

 

It was a relief when the day was over and they could return to the dressing room.  He noticed that Sansa didn’t immediately follow him, instead going over to Jory and talking to him.

 

Sandor didn’t know what was going on.  He had an awful feeling that whatever was happening between them was over before it even started, and a pit of despair was forming in his stomach.

 

He changed out of his costume and only had the beard to take off.  He had been looking forward to having her help him, along with a kiss here or there but she still hadn’t shown up.  He considered going to her dressing room but chose to wait a bit longer, still baffled.

 

Did she think he had encouraged that woman?  Didn’t Sansa see that he’d been virtually attacked by her?  Besides, they were in public, in front of dozens of children.  What could he have possibly done, even if he wanted to?

 

Brooding, he nearly missed the knock on the door.  Expecting Sansa, he was disappointed to see Jory standing there, a confused look on his face.

 

“Hey, Sandor.  Um, Sansa just asked me to tell you that she’s had to rush out.  Something about an emergency, or something.  Said she’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Stunned, Sandor nodded.  He opened the moisturiser as he began taking off the beard, emotions roiling through him. 

 

Sadness, anger, confusion.  The Little Bird couldn’t even tell him she was leaving herself.  Had to send Jory in her stead. 

 

As he worked, anger became the dominant emotion.  So much for wanting him.  So much for those kisses.  It had all been a lie. 

 

Pulling the last bit of beard off roughly, ignoring that it pulled his skin, Sandor tossed it on the bench, uncaring if it was bent out of shape for the next day.  He didn’t give a damn about any of it. 

 

He considered just not turning up tomorrow but he knew he’d lose his ‘real’ job and he was damned if he was going to be jobless come the new year for her.  He’d grit his teeth for the next five days and then he’d never see her again.

 

For a day that had started so well, it had ended like shit.

 

Driving home, his anger turned to despair and he reached for a bottle of beer as soon as he got home, thinking to drown his sorrows.

 

He was sitting in the dark, on his fourth bottle, when his doorbell sounded.

 

_Who the fuck is that?_ He wondered.  He didn’t get many visitors.  He considered ignoring it as he was in no mood to talk to anyone but it rang again and again.

 

“Fuck off!”  he yelled.

 

“Sandor?  It’s…it’s Sansa.”

 

Sandor nearly dropped his bottle in surprise.  What was she doing here?  How did she know where he lived?

 

“Please, Sandor.  Can you open the door?”

 

He wanted to refuse but his need to see her overcame his anger.  Stomping to the door, he yanked it open to see a puffy-eyed Sansa standing there, wringing her hands nervously.

 

“What do you want?”  She flinched at the hard tone.

 

“I…I wanted to apologise…for my behaviour…before,” she stammered.

 

“How did you know where I live?”

 

“Um, I rang Mr Varys and asked him.  Told him it was an emergency.”

 

Sandor snorted.  “Like the emergency that made you bolt earlier?”

 

Sansa grimaced.  “Can I come in?  I can explain.”

 

Not able to refuse her, he stepped back, flicking the light on as she entered.  He winced a little at the sudden glare, closing the door behind her.

 

He stepped past her and went back to his seat, picking up his beer and taking another swig.  Sansa followed nervously and perched herself on the sofa, clasping her hands together as she quickly looked around.

 

Compared to her house, his was quite utilitarian.  No knick-knacks – just the essentials – tv, chairs, coffee table, speakers.

 

“Sandor, I’m so sorry,” she started.  “You must think – I don’t know what you must think.  I acted stupidly, over something that wasn’t even your fault.”

 

“What the fuck was that all about, anyway?” he ground out.  “If you don’t want me, then just tell me straight.  I’m a big boy.  I can take it.”  He looked at his beer.  “Expected it, really.”

 

“Oh, no, Sandor, no!” she exclaimed, coming over and kneeling in front of him, taking his hand in hers.  “I do want you.  I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.  I’ve never been as forward with another man as I was with you.  I felt it the moment I met you.”

 

“Then, why…”

 

“I was embarrassed,” she admitted, hanging her head.

 

Sandor was baffled.  “Embarrassed?  About what?”

 

“About calling myself your girlfriend.”

 

His heart slumped again.  “It’s ok.  It’s not something women want, so why…”

 

“I _want_ to be your girlfriend.”  That stopped him.  “I want to be with you.  I was embarrassed and I panicked because I said it without having discussed it with you.  It’s only been three days and I immediately thought that you would think I was some kind of obsessive weirdo for blurting it out.  It’s just that I felt so jealous of that woman and the way she was all over you, that it came out unconsciously.  I just couldn’t face you after that.  I didn’t want to hear you tell me that you don’t want the same thing.”

 

“You were jealous?”  Sandor could hardly believe it.  Why would someone like her be jealous over his ugly mug?

 

Sansa nodded.  “I wanted to rip her eyes out.”  She looked at him, her blue eyes shimmery with unshed tears.  “I’m sorry, Sandor.”

 

All anger had fled the moment she’d looked at him as he opened the door, so he drew her up onto his lap and held her.  “I thought you realised that you’d made a mistake and didn’t really want to be with me,” he admitted.  He placed his finger on her lips as she began to refute his statement.  “You never have to feel jealous, Little Bird.  No other woman could compare to you.  I want nothing more than to be your boyfriend, as stupid as that term sounds.  I’m way too old to be anyone’s ‘boyfriend’ but…but, you know what I mean.”

 

“So you’ll forgive me for being so stupid?” she whispered, hopefully.

 

“You’re not stupid and there’s nothing to forgive,” he replied, his throat thick.  “This thing, it’s been so quick, no wonder we haven’t had a chance to talk about it.”

 

She gave him a watery smile and he couldn’t wait a moment more to kiss her. 

 

Her lips tasted salty from her tears and he licked them away before deepening it, his arms tightening around her waist. 

 

Entwined on his lap, not a breath of space between them, they kissed over and over again.  These kisses were both forgiveness and an acknowledgement that their relationship was not a casual thing, despite being so new.

 

Finally, breathless, and somewhat spent from the emotion expended today, they broke apart, Sansa resting her head on his shoulder, his arms holding her protectively.

 

“I’m exhausted,” she admitted quietly.

 

The day had taken its toll on him too and he nodded.  Looking down, he saw that her eyes were drooping and he didn’t like the thought of her driving home like that.

 

“Why don’t you stay the night, Little Bird?  You’re too tired to drive tonight.”

 

She raised her head to look at him.  “I don’t have anything with me.”

 

Sandor brushed her hair back, softly caressing her cheek.  “I’ll lend you a t-shirt.  It’ll probably cover you more than a nightie,” he smiled.

 

“Okay, I’d like that.”

 

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”  Standing up with her in his arms, he carried her to his bedroom before setting her down on his bed.  Rummaging through a drawer he found a t-shirt and gave it her.  “Here you go.  I’ll just go get changed in the bathroom and grab a spare toothbrush for you.”

 

“Thank you, Sandor,” she said, reaching up and kissing him softly.

 

“Little Bird, you know I want you desperately, but I think we’re both too tired to do more than sleep.”

 

A look of relief came over her.  “I know.  I can’t wait until we make love but I couldn’t do the deed justice tonight.”

 

“Then we’ll just sleep, Little Bird.”

 

“Just sleep,” she agreed.

 

“Can I hold you?”  Next to actually being inside her, the thought of holding her close in bed, was almost as exhilarating.

 

Sansa nodded.  “I’d love that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between Santa and his elf!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve and the celebrating starts in a few hours for me, so I thought I'd get this chapter in as a Christmas present for all you lovely readers. There's a little bit of smut in this one - just enough to whet the appetite. Enjoy!

The light was barely streaming through the blinds when Sandor was woken by the tickle of hair on his nose. Disoriented, he blew the strands away and shifted his legs only to come instantly awake as the reality of Sansa sleeping within his arms hit him.

Opening one eye, he was met with a mass of flame-kissed hair, messily tumbling over her shoulders and his chest. 

Sandor wondered if it was Christmas Day and all his wishes had been granted. To have his Little Bird nestled within his arms, sleeping peacefully, was a dream come true. One he’d never even dared to dream.

As if sensing his wakefulness, Sansa groaned and wriggled, making him instantly aware of his usual morning erection. Except, in these circumstances, it was almost painful. Sandor bit his lip in an effort not to moan aloud and wake her but he couldn’t resist rubbing his aching hardness on her cushiony arse.

No, it wasn’t Christmas Day as his cock reminded him that not all his wishes had been granted. 

They still had a bit of time before they had to get up, so he tried to lie still and savour the feel of her warm body except that she kept moving, making it hard to breathe. He even moved his hips backwards to create some space between them but she kept following in her sleep.

Or was she asleep?

Lifting his head, he caught the smile on her pouty mouth, soft and plump from sleep and kisses the night before. Grinning, he nipped her ear, making her giggle.

“You’re a naughty Little Bird, aren’t you?” he rasped throatily. “I was trying not to wake you but you were deliberately tormenting me.” He squeezed her to him as he snuffled her throat, breathing her in.

“Mmm, I like tormenting you like this,” she purred, wiggling her arse into his groin. 

“You’re playing with fire, Little Bird,” he warned, his hand moving down to her hip, rubbing the skin there, the t-shirt having ridden up in her sleep.

“Maybe I like fire, Sandor,” she murmured.

“Do you want me to burn you up?” he growled, moving to caress the skin of her stomach, awed by the silkiness of it. 

“Yes,” she moaned as his hand reached her bare breast, circling her nipple with his finger before gently tugging on it. “Oh, yes!”

Sandor thought he would explode with lust but one small, sane part of his brain told him they didn’t have enough time for him to do what he really wanted to do to Sansa. He would have to settle for giving them a taster of what was to come.

“Little Bird,” he murmured against the skin of her throat, licking the frantically racing pulse, as he kneaded her breast, one after the other, and ground his cock into her. Leaving one hand flicking her nipple, he slid the other one down her body and burrowed under her panties, skimming through the short thatch of cropped hair to reach her soaking heat. 

Sansa gasped as he slowly rubbed her nether lips, coating his finger before gently pressing against her opening but waiting for permission to go further.

“Yes, oh my, Sandor,” she panted. “Touch me. Please, Sandor.” She lifted her leg and put it over his, giving him greater access.

“Let me get these off, Little Bird,” he mumbled, pulling at her underwear. Sansa lifted her hips to help him, the panties getting kicked impatiently to the bottom of the bed. She also took the opportunity to take off the t-shirt, leaving her naked before him. 

Sandor wanted to rip his own boxers off and sink into her then and there, but he resisted, knowing that if he did, they would not leave this bed for the rest of the year.

Instead, he returned his hand to her aching core, her sigh of relief making his cock twitch violently. Kissing where ever he could reach, his finger sunk into her, making her cry out in pleasure. 

“Oh, yes,” she panted, gripping his arm. 

“Next time, it’ll be my cock inside you, Little Bird,” he murmured against her ear. “Do you want that?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I want you inside me, so badly.” She turned her head and he kissed her feverishly, tongues clashing.

By now, he was writhing against her, his cock weeping in its need of relief. His thumb found her swollen clit and rubbed it, her gasp of delight getting lost in his mouth. 

Needing air, she pulled her mouth away, her fingers digging into the skin of his arm in her excitement. 

Sansa threw her head back against his shoulder and let out a low keen as moisture flooded his fingers, her skin flushed a rosy pink as she peaked.

Her orgasm triggered his own, and with a final press into her, he growled into her throat as he felt like was drowning in waves of pleasure. Sandor could feel the stickiness of his semen but he was too light-headed to give much of a damn.

They lay together panting, attempting to catch their breath. He wiped his hand on his already soiled boxers before softly stroking her stomach, both of them bathing in the afterglow of a powerful release.

Sansa entwined her fingers in his, rubbing his knuckles. “Good morning.”

Sandor smiled and lifted his head to kiss her softly. “A very, very good morning, Little Bird.” His movement reminded him of the state of his boxers. “I’m going to clean up. I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

She nodded and moved onto her stomach, making Sandor’s satisfied cock twitch again as he took in the creamy skin, indented waist and round, soft arse cheeks which topped off those long, long legs. He sighed and wished they didn’t have to go to work.

He returned, cleaned, with a warm hand towel which he used to wipe her arse which was sticky with his come, before getting back in bed with her for the final few minutes before they were forced out again.

Sansa turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do we have to go?” she whined cutely.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, kissing her on the nose. “Maybe if I can have Mr Varys murdered, we won’t have to go in tomorrow,” he half-joked.

“That would be nice, but I suppose there would be someone that misses him.” 

“Never heard of any, but anything’s possible.”

“I’m going to have dinner with my sister and her husband tonight and I have get some last minute things after work so I won’t be able to see you tonight,” she told him, looking at him with regret. 

“That’s okay, Little Bird. It’s not like you have to pause your life because you met me,” he reassured her. “I’ll probably go for a few Christmas drinks with my mate, Beric.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“You’ll see me tomorrow and for the next three days.”

Sansa looked at him seriously. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Nothing. I usually spend it here or occasionally with Beric, when he’s single.”

“Do you want to spend it with me and my family?” she asked him, eyes hopeful. “My brother Robb and his wife, Roslin, are hosting it and I’d love for you to come.”

Sandor looked at her nervously. Meet the family? What if they hated him and convinced her she’d made a mistake? “I wouldn’t want to be a bother…”

“Nonsense,” she cut him off. “Roslin usually cooks enough for an army, having grown up in a ridiculously large family, so you’d barely make a dent in the food.”

“I can eat quite a bit, Little Bird,” he joked.

“So does my brother, Rickon, so you’d be in good company.” She kissed his cheek. “Please say you’ll come. I really want you to.”

Sandor quickly learned that he couldn’t say no to those blue eyes of hers and nodded. “Okay, Little Bird, I’ll come, if you’re sure.”

Sansa grinned and hugged him before giving him a noisy kiss. “I’m so happy! They’ll love you, I promise. They can be a noisy bunch, but they’re my family and I want you to get to know them.”

He looked at his bedside clock and sighed. “Time to go, Little Bird.”

She grimaced and nodded resignedly. “Yeah. Follow me back to my place and I’ll make us some breakfast?” She got out and he nearly gasped to see her standing proudly naked, her nipples taut from the cold.

He nodded, not taking his eyes from her. “Hurry and get dressed, Little Bird, for pity’s sake,” he urged huskily. 

With a laugh, she gathered her clothes, asking him to get her underwear from inside the sheets, and dressed quickly while he showered.

Jory had already arrived when they got to the store. He gave them a smile as he correctly surmised that all was well between them again.

Sansa had to playfully smack Sandor’s hands a few times as she helped him with his beard since they tended to wander up under her skirt, making her giggle and gasp. “You’ll need to put yourself on the naughty list, if you don’t stop that, Santa!”

“Oh, I’m already there, Little Bird,” he rasped, giving her bum a playful squeeze.

His new internet notoriety ensured that there was a healthy crowd waiting for him when he walked out, carrying the sack and waving at the kids. He still hated this, but three days of being Santa meant he was getting a little better at it.

He still refused to suffer fools or rude, disrespectful kids.

Like the one who came to see him that morning.

The short, skinny kid with the weird, intense eyes was a case in point.

“What’s your name, kid?” Sansa had urged him not to be so blunt, but he just couldn’t simper and be all jolly. He was coming to believe that his manner with everyone was one of the reasons so many people were coming. They were all hoping something unexpected would happen. “Well?”

The kid, who seemed about seven or eight fixed his blue eyes on him and spoke. “Ramsay.”

He looked reluctant to be there but was being encouraged by his mother, a large woman with a jolly face who nodded at him, smiling brightly. Sandor assumed the taciturn guy standing next to her was Ramsay’s father. He had the same weird, intense eyes. What a mismatch that was.

Ramsay was sitting next to Sandor, refusing to touch him and glaring at his mother when she encouraged him to get closer to Santa.

“So, what do you want for Christmas?”

Ramsay turned his weird eyes on him and spoke in a low, mechanical voice. “A knife. I big, sharp knife I can use to skin things with.”

Sandor’s eyebrows, bushy as they were, raised in surprise. Whoa! Mini psycho-in-training here.

“You’re too young for a knife, don’t you think?” He glanced at Sansa, who’s mouth was gaping as she looked the kid.

Ramsay shook his head. “No. I want to peel the skin off my enemies and make coats out of them. Especially her.” He pointed at his mother, who just giggled nervously.

“Ramsay, darling. What have we said about playing with knives?” she twittered.

“Wouldn’t you prefer a video game, or something?” asked Sandor. “Maybe something less psychotic? Your mother doesn’t look like she’d be too pleased for me to get you a knife.”

“She’s not my mother! She’s just a fat bitch who married my father and I hate her.”

Okay, this kid had some serious psychological issues! Sandor didn’t want to be here, let alone try to sort out some weird family dynamics. He came from the ultimate in weird family dynamics.

“Ramsay!” At last the father spoke, those pale eyes fixed on his son. “Stop talking.”

“How about we take a photo?” chimed in Sansa, attempting to ease the awkwardness.

“Don’t want to,” complained Ramsay belligerently.

“Ramsay, you will take the photo.” His father didn’t raise his voice, just spoke in a tone that made even Sandor want to shiver.

It seemed Ramsay knew that tone as well, since he sat and stared at the camera, a scowl on his face.

Sandor made a mental note to ask Jory to give him a look at the photo later. It was sure to be filled with festive cheer.

Talk in the break room was about what they were all going to do for Christmas, and for the first time since he could remember, Sandor actually had plans, though he left it to Sansa to tell the others he was going to spend it with her family.

Sandor also realised that he needed to get something for Sansa. No, not needed. Wanted. He’d never bought presents for anyone but he wanted to get her something. Fuck knows what, though.

Deciding to brave the shopping crowds after work, seeing as Sansa was busy, he threw himself back into the fray.

Only four more days! 

It seemed that the closer to Christmas it got, the more stressed and harried the parents got. He actually told one parent that he was not going to take a photo with the distressed toddler who was practically screaming when they were attempting to force her to take a photo.

“For fuck’s sake! She doesn’t want a photo! Look at her, she’s terrified! You’d put her through this just so you can show off to your friends? It would be a shit photo, anyway, with her screaming her head off.” The father spluttered but when Sandor stood up, he quickly backed off. “Take her home and stop being self-centred arseholes.”

The crowd around gasped but there were some nods, as well as some parents that quickly slunk out of the line with their children. Obviously, they thought it was wiser not to risk getting the same reaction from this no-nonsense Santa.

Towards the end of the day, a tiny, skinny little boy came up, all curls and big eyes. He happily sat on Sandor’s lap and grinned at him.

“Hi, Thanta!”

“Hi. What’s your name?”

“Theon.” 

Was Theon his name or ‘Seon’? It was hard to tell with that lisp. “How old are you?”

Theon held up four little fingers. “I’m four.”

“What do want me to bring you for Christmas?”

“Thamon.”

Sandor reared back. What? “What was that?”

“I want thome thamon,” he repeated.

“Salmon? Why the fu… why do you want salmon?”

Theon shrugged. 

“Isn’t there something else you’d like? You know, like a toy or something normal?”

Theon grinned and shook his head. “No, just thamon.”

Sandor looked at Sansa, who shrugged her shoulders and grinned. “Ok, then. Salmon it is.”

After the photo, Theon waved and ran back to his mother and sister who shrugged their shoulders in bewilderment as well.

Kids were weird. He’d always thought they were just basically smaller versions of adults but after spending the last four days talking to countless numbers of them, he realised that they weren’t. They came out with the weirdest shit.

He couldn’t remember being like that, but then he’d never had a normal childhood, so what would he know?

Walking back into his dressing room, he slumped down into his chair as he pulled off his furry hat.

He was applying the moisturiser when Sansa came in, carrying her coat and bag. 

“Ready to go, Little Bird?”

“As soon as I finish helping you, I am,” she replied, taking the tub from him.

“You don’t have to. I can do it,” he protested weakly.

“I want to, so shut up,” she grinned.

Several minutes and many, many kisses later, Sandor was all cleaned up with Sansa sitting on his lap.

“I’d better go,” sighed Sansa.

Reluctantly, Sandor set her on her feet and helped her into her coat. “Take care out there, Little Bird.”

“You too, Sandor.”

“Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow. Dinner?” he asked.

Sansa nodded happily. “Of course. Actually,” she grinned slyly up at him, “how about I cook us dinner? I’d rather be alone with you.”

Sandor grinned. “Alone, huh? Will I be safe?”

“I doubt it.”

“Then count me in,” he replied, bending to kiss her one last time.

The kiss lasted much longer than they’d bargained for, neither finding it easy to pull away but Sansa finally dragged herself away, blowing him a kiss from the door.

Two hours later, Sandor was wondering if the world had gone crazy. 

There were people everywhere, frantically racing from store to store, dragging unwilling spouses, partners and/or children with them.

How did people do this every year? Walking through a crowded department store as security was a hell of a lot easier than being a shopper.

Sandor was struggling to find something suitable. He had no experience with gift buying, having never had anyone he wanted to buy for before. He couldn’t imagine having to buy for multiple people. He’d probably just give them money. It sounded a lot easier. Probably not very Christmassy, though.

It was as he was passing yet another jewellery store that he saw it. There was a silver chain hanging in the window with a pendant attached to it in the shape of a tiny chirping bird on a branch.

The sales assistant got it for him so that he could have a closer look and he saw it had red feathers. In his huge hands, it looked miniscule, but he thought it was perfect for Sansa. 

A little bird for the Little Bird.

As he paid for it, he reflected that it was his first ever gift. Another first. He’d never slept with a woman without having sex. He’d never spent the whole night with a woman. He’d never had a woman want to be his girlfriend. 

He’d never felt these emotions for a woman. Or anyone.

As he walked out, the song “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” was being piped through the shopping centre.

And for the first time ever, he actually began to look forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas, whether you celebrate it or not. If you're like me, in Australia, or the southern hemisphere, don't forget the sunscreen as it's going to be hot one! For all of you in the cold, wintery north, stay warm, and everyone, please drive safely, eat, drink and be merry and enjoy the time off (if you have it) with your loved ones.
> 
> Oh, and the story about the salmon is actually true. My daughter's colleague has a young son that asked Santa for salmon for Christmas. The kid's never even tried it. Sandor's right - kids are weird, lol.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor gets an unexpected (and unwelcome) visitor at work and he and Sansa get close. Really close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've finally recovered from my food and alcohol coma. I hope you all had a great day. I've got so much chocolate it's going to take weeks to get through. Oh well :-). Smut alert: the end of this chapter gets racy. Very racy. What you've been waiting for racy :-)

Jory was already in the break room, eating a cinnamon scroll and laughing at something on his phone.  He looked up and grinned when Sandor entered the room.

 

“Sandor, my man!  I think you need to set up your own Instagram account, you’re getting that famous!”

 

“What the fuck are you going on about?” growled Sandor as poured himself a coffee.  “What the seven hell’s is an Inst…Inst….”

 

“Instagram,” supplied Jory.  “Social media, man.  Where have you been hiding?  It’s the way of the future.”

 

“I hate everybody in real life – present company and Sansa, excepted – so why the fuck would I want to talk to names on some website?  What brought this on anyway?”

 

Jory held out his phone.  “Another video of you went up yesterday.  It was when you blasted those parents for forcing their kid to take a photo.”

 

“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Sandor.

 

“You should see how many comments in support of your stance you’re getting!  People are loving you.”

 

“Well I wish they would all fuck off.”

 

Sansa wandered in just then, making his day immeasurably better.  When she caught sight of him, her face lit up and without caring who was watching, walked straight up to Sandor and reached up to kiss him on the lips.

 

Sandor froze for a moment, both in surprise and delight, but the lure of her soft lips was too much and he returned the kiss with interest.

 

“Guys, get a room,” joked Jory.

 

“You don’t think I wouldn’t have done that already if we didn’t have to be here?” muttered Sandor, face slightly flushed.  This was not something he was used to.  “Hey, Little Bird.”

 

“Hi, Sandor,” she smiled.  “Did you have a good night?”

 

He shrugged.  “Nothing special.  How was your dinner?”

 

“Good.  I told Arya, my sister, that I was bringing you on Christmas day.  After gaping at me for ages, she proceeded to grill me about you, which was a little difficult as there’s so much I don’t know about you yet, before deciding that you weren’t some sort of serial killer.”

 

“Sounds charming,” he drawled.

 

“Arya is Arya,” she laughed.  “Don’t really know how her husband, Gendry, puts up with her.  The man is a saint.  Anyway, after convincing her that Mr Varys wouldn’t get a serial killer to be Santa in his precious store, she’s looking forward to meeting you.”

 

“I bet.  Might wear my body armour that day, just in case.  And are you sure about Mr Varys?”

 

The very man in question walked in at that moment, beaming at him.  The man never beamed and Sandor was wondering if he was in some sort of alternate universe.

 

“Mr Clegane!”  Mr Varys actually reached around and patted his back.  Sandor looked at Sansa, utterly bewildered.  She just shrugged in equal puzzlement.  “It was an absolute stroke of genius to break Mr Tarly’s leg.  Genius, I say!”

 

“Ahh…it wasn’t on purpose, you know.”

 

“Of course not, my dear Mr Clegane, but the fact remains that due to that unfortunate incident, for Mr Tarly, that is, I had to put you in his place and it was an absolutely masterful stroke on my part.”

 

“I was the only one and you threatened me with my job, my regular job,” Sandor pointed out.

 

Mr Varys chuckled and gave Sandor an ineffectual slap on the arm.  “Oh, Mr Clegane, I was just joking you know.”

 

“I don’t think so.”  Sandor was sick of this bullshit.  “What the fuck’s going on, Mr Varys?”

 

“Thanks to you, we have had to hire extra casual staff until Christmas Eve to meet the demand.  The store is bulging at the seams.  We are on track to make our best ever pre-Christmas sales.”

 

“What’s that got to do with me?”

 

“Your internet notoriety is the best advertising we’ve ever had.  I had a request from a local television station this morning to interview you.  They want to meet the famous, no-nonsense Santa who is a breath of fresh air.”

 

Sandor gaped at the man.  “No fucking way!”

 

“Too late, I already said yes.”

 

Sandor looked at Sansa in an attempt to calm his growing temper.  She smiled sympathetically and rubbed his arm.  “No.  I am not talking to some reporter.  I never wanted to do this in the first place.”

 

Mr Varys simply 

looked at Sandor with those strangely hypnotising eyes and nodded.  “They will be here in time for your second break.  You will talk to them and you will be civil.  Am I clear?”

 

Knowing he was defeated, Sandor nodded and stomped off to his dressing room, slamming the door behind him.  He was tempted to put his fist through the damned mirror, or Mr Varys’ head, preferably,  but the wanker would probably make him pay for it.  He settled for kicking the wall a few times, having to be satisfied with the dents he made. Those he could plausibly deny.

 

“Sandor?”  Sansa was looking at him a little apprehensively from the doorway.

 

“Come in, Little Bird,” he replied, throwing himself onto the chair in frustration.

 

She perched herself on his lap and pushed his hair back, giving him a peck on the forehead.  “You’ll be fine.  I’ll stay with you, if you want.”

 

“Fucking, cock-sucking, bastard wanker!  Because it’s always been my dream to put this ugly mug on television so that people who don’t have the misfortune to know me in real life can look at me with disgust!”

 

Sansa cupped his face and forced him to look at her.  “You.  Are.  Not.  Ugly.  If you’re that worried about it, stay in full costume.  You can barely see the scars then.  It won’t take long - we have to keep to our schedule, after all – and I’ll be in the room with you.  You don’t have a choice.”

 

Sandor slumped back in defeat.  “I know, Little Bird.”  Still holding his face, Sansa kissed him, taking control and tasting him, her tongue demanding entrance, which he gladly gave.  She was comforting him, giving him strength and he sighed.

 

“We’d better get ready,” she murmured against his mouth.  He nodded and she slowly got off his lap, walking to the door.

 

“Little Bird?”  She cocked her head in query.  “Thank you.”

 

She smiled and left the room.

 

He was still in a shit mood, so his ‘Ho ho ho’s’ were a little louder and growlier than they had been, making a number of children tremble and starting crying.  At Sansa’s warning whisper, he toned it down a little.

 

As Jory had predicted, the queue was just as long as day before, and the demographic even more diverse than ever.

 

There were groups of women who giggled their way through their photoshoot but luckily none had been as forward as the busty redhead from a couple of days ago.  Though Sandor would have found it greatly amusing to see his Little Bird show her claws again.

 

It was a turn-on.  Not that he needed any with her.

 

At the dreaded second break, Sandor reluctantly returned to the room to find Mr Varys in conversation with a young man who didn’t look old enough to have left the school room, much less work as a reporter.

 

“Ah, Mr Clegane,” greeted Mr Varys smarmily.  “Let me introduce you to Mr Payne from KLNS7.  Mr Payne, this, obviously, is our Santa, otherwise known as Sandor Clegane.”

 

“Pod, please,” said the reporter, holding out his hand and smiling widely at Sandor, who glared at him for a few moments, enjoying the discomfiture on the kid’s face before reluctantly shaking hands.  “Good to meet you, Mr Clegane.”

 

“Glad someone’s enjoying this,” muttered Sandor, moving to sit on the couch.

 

“Oh, er…”  he turned, his smile widening as he caught sight of Sansa, much to Sandor’s displeasure.  “Hi, I’m Pod.”

 

Shaking his hand, Sansa nodded.  “Hi, Sansa.”

 

Pod stared at Sansa as if he’d never seen a woman before.  Sandor didn’t like it at all.  

 

“Are we going to do this fucking interview or not?” he barked at Pod, who jumped at the ferocity in his voice.

 

“Oh, yes…thank you, Mr Clegane.”

 

“Just call me Santa,” he growled menacingly, getting in the smaller man’s face, his bulk completely dwarfing the reporter.  Even with the beard, Sandor’s evil grin was enough to make anyone quake with fear.

 

Pod’s face paled as he shrunk back.  “So, m-may I suggest we…we do the…the interview now?”

 

With a final warning glare, Sandor stepped back and sat down on the couch, Mr Varys snapping his fingers for someone to put a chair in front of him so Pod could sit as well.

 

Pod straightened his tie as his camera man positioned himself to get both men in shot before signalling that he was good to go.

 

“If you haven’t seen the video of Baratheon Bros’ resident Santa by now, you must have been living in the far wastes beyond the Wall, because it has been viewed over two million times to date.  I’m here with the man himself, Santa!” 

 

The camera turned towards a grumpy-looking Sandor, who was glaring at it. 

 

“Santa, you’ve become an internet sensation.  Was that a stunt?  Carrying the boy like that?” asked Pod.

 

“What kind of stupid question is that?” barked Sandor.  “The kid was a shit and he deserved a hiding, but due to laws created by bleeding hearts, I’d be in trouble if I laid a hand on the little arsewipe.”  He glanced at Sansa, who was biting her lip in an attempt to stop a laugh from bursting out.

 

“Oh, um…of course.  You’re not the regular Santa, are you?” Pod asked, starting to look like he’d drawn the short straw when he was given this assignment.

 

“No.”

 

Expecting Sandor to expand on that, Pod was quickly disappointed.  “Do you think most boys and girls have been good this year?”

 

“How the hell should I know?”

 

“Isn’t Santa magic and he knows what they’ve been up to?  So only the good children get presents?”

 

“What a crock of shit!  I’ve got better things to do than spend my time watching what others are doing, like some nosey old biddy.  And many people get gifts when they’ve done little to deserve them while others get nothing but deserve them more.”

 

“Ok, then,” stammered Pod, who was starting to sweat by now.  “Is this your favourite time of year?”

 

“Far from it.”  Another glance at Sansa.  “Though this year is better than most.”  Sandor wondered how long this farce would continue.  He was almost looking forward to getting back into the Santa chair.

 

The next five minutes were filled with the most awkward interview anyone in that room had ever seen.  Quite a few lips were being bitten to stop themselves laughing.  Finally, Pod drew the debacle to a close.

 

“What do you suggest kids leave out on Christmas Eve for your long trip around the world?”

 

“Scotch will do.”

 

A strangled laugh was heard from the other side of the room and Sandor saw Jory make his way out of the door, hand covering his mouth.

 

Pod turned to the camera, looking somewhat sickly at this point.  “Haha, Santa.  What a sense of humour, huh?  Of course Santa prefers cookies and milk, kids.”  Turning back to Sandor, he hurriedly wrapped up the interview.  “Well, I’m sure you have a lot to do before Christmas, so I’ll let you get back to it.  Thank you for your time, Santa.  This is Podrick Payne for KLNS7, signing off.”

 

Sandor just nodded and got up from the couch, making straight for the fridge as he was starving.

 

Pod had a quick word with the cameraman, before turning to thank Varys, who was glaring at Sandor’s back, for the opportunity to interview Sandor.

 

Sandor snorted as he filled his mouth with a roll of sushi.  _Liar_.  His eyes narrowed as he watched the reporter shake Sansa’s hand and murmur something to her.  Sansa’s eyes widened before shaking her head and pulling her hand away.

 

Pod smiled ruefully and left the room, the cameraman following.

 

“You could have been a touch more gracious, Mr Clegane,” pointed out Mr Varys.

 

“I’ve never seen a more awkward interview,” laughed Jory, who had come back in the room.  “I nearly peed my pants.”

 

Sandor couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face.  “Never wanted no fucking interview anyway.”

 

“Yes, well, I’ll leave you to it,” said Mr Varys.

 

As soon as he was gone, Sansa burst out laughing, collapsing onto the couch as she held her stomach.  “That…was…so…funny!” 

 

Sitting down next to her, Sandor waited for her to finish.  The laughter settled into the occasional chuckle and he asked her what he’d been wondering since the end of the interview.

 

“What did the little fucker ask you?”

 

Sansa looked at him, puzzled.  “What?”

 

“After that car wreck of an interview.  He asked you something.”

 

“Oh, that,” she dismissed airily.  “He just asked me out.”  Sandor’s hand clenched on his drink. “Of course I said no.”

 

_She wants you_ , he told himself.  _Don’t be a dick about it.  She told him no._ Sandor nodded but kept his mouth shut.

 

That afternoon’s photo session was as busy as the previous ones.  Babies, kids and adults lined up to take a photo with him.

 

Whilst posing awkwardly with a pair of twin babies, one in each arm, Sandor noticed a commotion in the line.

 

A young, blonde girl had decked a boy with wild ginger hair in the nose, and the parents were arguing about whose fault it was.  Expecting the boy to get up and be upset, Sandor was surprised to see him give the blonde a goofy smile while rubbing his nose.

 

Shortly after, the blonde girl came up to him.  Sandor couldn’t make out how old she was as she was as tall as a teenager, but her face looked much younger.

 

She sat primly next to him and looked at him with startling blue eyes.  “Hi, I’m Brienne.”  She was quite plain but her eyes rivalled Sansa’s in colour.

 

“Hold old are you?”

 

“I’m nine.  I’m tall for my age.”  Her manner of speaking was quite formal for such a young girl.

 

“I was tall too.  It’s no big deal,” said Sandor.  “Did you deck that kid over there earlier?” 

 

They both looked over at the red-head who was still gazing at Brienne as if she was the star on the Christmas tree.

 

“Yes, he kept annoying me.  Keeps calling me beautiful.  I know I’m not so he shouldn’t tease.”

 

Sandor knew all about self-image issues but wasn’t about to go into it with this kid.  “What do you want for Christmas?”

 

Brienne looked at him and gave him a smile that transformed her young face.  “A suit of armour.”

 

Sandor shook his head.  Seriously, why couldn’t they all ask for something simple – like a pet dragon, or something?  “Err, a suit of armour?  Why?”

 

“I want to grow up and be a hero and save the world.  Knights were brave and fearless and they wore suits of armour to show it.  I want to be a knight.”

 

“You know there’s no such thing as a true knight?  Most of them were just ordinary men who thought their title entitled them to do what they liked.  You seem much better than a knight,” he told her.

 

Brienne shook her head.  “No, I want to be a knight,” she proclaimed stubbornly.

 

Sandor shrugged.  “I’ll see what I can do.” 

 

After posing for the photo, Brienne stepped down and walked past the ginger who made to follow her but was stopped by his mother.  Instead he was made to go up to Sandor.

 

His wild, curly hair was even more ginger than Sansa’s and he kept glancing in the direction Brienne had gone.

 

“Got a crush on her, huh?”  asked Sandor with a chuckle.

 

“She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.  I’m going to marry her,” announced the boy.

 

“Bit young for marriage, don’t you think?  How old are you, anyway?”  asked Sandor.

 

“Ten, and I don’t think so.  Anyway, I can’t marry her until I grow up.  Mum wouldn’t let me.”

 

“What’s your name, kid?”

 

“Tormund.”

 

“What do you want for Christmas?”

 

“Her.”  Short and to the point.

 

Sandor shook his head.  “It’s against the elf rules, or something, but I can’t give you another person, kid.  You’ll just have to win her around.”

 

Tormund’s face fell, his wild hair falling over his eyes.  “But, I don’t even know her name!”

 

“Sorry, but rules are rules.  Anything else I can get you?”

 

The boy shook his head sadly.

 

Sansa, who had been following the exchange, intervened.  “Christmas is a magical time.  You don’t know what can happen.  Don’t give up, ok?”  The boy nodded.  “Let’s get this photo.”

 

As soon as they entered Sandor’s dressing room, he pushed her up against the door and, with full costume still on, ravaged her mouth.  Or attempted to.

 

“Sandor!” she giggled as spat out bits of fake beard.  “Get changed.  I’m getting squashed by your belly and smothered by fake hair!”

 

Sandor grumbled but pulled back, grinning at her.  “Sorry, Little Bird.  It’s been a hell of a day and if I didn’t get a taste of you it wasn’t going to be pretty.”

 

“Get changed and I’ll be back shortly.  Then we can go back to my place for dinner,” she soothed, rubbing her finger down his long nose.

 

“Just dinner?” he waggled his fake, bushy eyebrows.

 

“To start,” she replied sassily and walked out.

 

Sandor changed at record pace, nearly ripping the beard off in his haste.  The thought of spending the evening with his Little Bird was sending his heart rate into overdrive.

 

He didn’t know if he would be able to stop himself if she indicated she wanted more than kisses. 

 

No, he _knew_ he wouldn’t be able to stop.  Wouldn’t _want_ to stop.

 

Following Sansa home, he kept telling himself that he wasn’t to jump her the minute they entered her apartment.  That he wasn’t a dog that couldn’t control himself around a woman.  That he was going to follow her lead.

 

But damn, it was hard, as was his cock, when he watched her pert little arse walk up the stairs in front of him

 

Closing the door after him, Sansa gave him a look that was so full of heat and lust that all Sandor’s resolutions in the car disappeared like snowflakes in a heat wave.

 

Hands on either side of her head, Sandor used his body to press hers into the door, grinding his cock into her heat, cursing the thickness of their jeans that prevented him from feeling her soft skin.

 

With a little moue of want, Sansa reached up, searching for his mouth.  Not one to disappoint his little bird, Sandor kissed her passionately, both of them eager to devour the other.  Tongues and lips clashing fervently, not a sliver of space between their bodies, only the sounds of their moans and mouths ravaging each other could be heard in the apartment.

 

Sandor lifted her leg around his hips, attempting to get closer.  He thought his zipper would burst from the pressure of his cock when she lifted her other leg, encircling his waist as he held her with both hands on her arse.

 

“Too…many…clothes…” murmured Sansa against his throat, where she was suckling on his throbbing pulse as she writhed her hips against his.

 

Despite his determination to wait, the desire in Sansa’s voice was just too much for him and with a low growl, he nearly ripped the buttons of her coat off as he struggled to free her from it. 

 

The next few minutes were a jumble of hands and lips as they clumsily divested the other of their layers of clothing.  “Fucking winter,” he growled into her ear as he shed what seemed like a million items of clothes off her, his large fingers struggling with zips and buttons as well as bra hooks.

 

Sansa giggled as she pushed his hands away and undid her bra, flinging it across the room before reaching for his zip, scraping her nails down his naked torso as she did so, making him hiss in pleasure.

 

Sandor had intended to take his time with her their first time, but the heady rush of desire that overcame them precluded it, especially when she took hold of his rigid cock for the first time.

 

“Fuck, Little Bird!” he gasped when she squeezed gently and began massaging him.

 

“Not yet, but soon,” she murmured, licking his nipple.

 

Without thought or finesse, his hands were travelling all over her silky skin, squeezing and kneading, particularly her rose-tipped breasts that just begged for his mouth.  Taking one nipple in his mouth, he sucked hard on the pebbled tip, rolling it around with his tongue.

 

“God, Sandor!” she breathed in his ear before taking a nip and giving him an almost painful squeeze. 

 

In retaliation, his hand reached between her legs, coating his fingers with her dripping heat and pushed two of them into her, her loud whimper making his cock jump violently.

 

“We…need…to…move,” he panted, a tiny, sane corner of his mind reminding him that they were still pushed up against her front door.  His little bird deserved better than to be fucked up against a door.

 

Surprising him, Sansa shook her head and grabbed hold of his shoulders as she dislodged his fingers and lifted herself to wrap her legs around him, her wet centre resting against the tip of his weeping cock.

 

“No.  Fuck me, Sandor.  Right here, right now,” she moaned, wriggling her hips so that his tip grazed her opening.

 

Sandor thought he might explode right then and there.  Who would have thought his lady-like, sweet Little Bird was an absolute vixen when it came to sex?

 

_Fuck, you’re a lucky bastard,_ he grinned to himself.  Gritting his teeth, he push the tip of his cock into her then stopped.  “Little Bird!  Condom!” he panted, his nerve endings screaming for him to plunge into her.

 

“On…the…ohhh… the pill.  I’m…clean,” she stammered.  “Please.  I want you so badly.”

 

Kissing her frantically, he pushed into her, her tight walls welcoming him as if he was born to be inside her.  “I’m clean…too…I…promise,” he mumbled against her mouth, trying to make this last.

 

“Fuck me!” she demanded once her body adjusted to his size.  “Hard.”

 

Sandor fell in love then and there. 

 

Hands gripping her arse cheeks, he pressed her back against the door and began moving. 

 

His first few thrusts were long and slow, but her legs tightened demandingly on his hips and he moved to obey his queen.

 

Her whimpers and moans of pleasure as well as the raking of her nails on his shoulders loosened any restraint he had. 

 

Biting and suckling on her neck, he pounded into her, lifting her up and down on his cock, her wetness liberally coating it, making his movements smooth and fluid.

 

“So good,” he panted.  “So…fucking…good.  Take me, Little Bird.  Take my cock.  All of it.”

 

“Yes,” she gasped.  “Give it all…to me.  I want it.”

 

“It’s yours, Little…Bird.  Only yours.

 

“Only…mine.  And I’m…yours,” she moaned as he rubbed along a particularly sensitive spot.

 

“I’m so close.”  

 

Writhing her hips, as if trying to absorb all of him inside her, Sansa threw her head back, not even noticing the bang, and let out a long, keening moan.  “I’m…I’m…com… _ohhhhh_ ”

 

Even through the haze of his own lust, Sandor watched as a flush suffused her whole body, making her even more impossibly beautiful as her climax washed over her, her body clamping down on his.

 

It was too much for his already poor restraint and with a loud growl against her throat, his cock twitched violently as he came, grinding into her as he spilled himself, attempting to draw out his orgasm as long as possible.

 

When the last wave of pleasure subsided, Sandor used the last of his strength and carried their still joined bodies over to her couch, flopping back onto it, her boneless body draped over his.

 

Sandor’s body felt drained and replete but his heart felt full.

 

This was turning into the best Christmas ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait for their first time, but these two were just too horny to wait! Oh, well!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after 'the' event. Sandor ponders his feelings for Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more smut to start the chapter! Yay! Sandor's all confused about his feelings for his Little Bird. Poor darling - he's never felt like this. We also meet Beric and some naughty texting occurs. Lots of heat - which I don't need today as it feels like the seventh level of hell here today, lol.

After recovering their wits, Sansa lifted her head and gazed at him with a satisfied smile.

 

“Mmm, that was _so_ good,” she purred.

 

Taking her head between his hands, he nodded and kissed her, savouring the musky smell of sex that bathed them.  “The best, Little Bird.”

 

Sansa beamed.  “Really?”

 

He nodded.  “Really.  You blew my mind.  So…damned…sexy,” he murmured between kisses.  By now he’d slipped out of her and he could feel the stickiness that coated them both.  “But I really wanted to take my time, taste all of you.  I didn’t mean to take you against the door, for fuck’s sake.”

 

Sansa giggled as she caressed his face, fingers tracing over his scars.  “I _loved_ being fucked like that.”

 

“You’re a saucy minx, aren’t you?  So prim and proper to the world, a little wildcat in bed.  Not that we’ve fucked in a bed, yet.”

 

Sansa shrugged.  “It’s been a while since I had sex and it was never this good.  I’ve had to resort to my vibrator or fingers.  Until I met you.”

 

Not being as young as he once was, his dick did still make a valiant effort to harden again at her words.

 

“Will you show me?” he asked huskily.

 

“If you show me,” she replied with a naughty smile.  “I want to watch you pleasure yourself.”

 

Sandor moaned.  “Stop, Little Bird.  I’m trying to be good.”

 

“You were.  _So_ good,” she replied, licking his throat. 

 

Despite his best efforts, he could feel his cock hardening again.  His hands automatically reached up to fondle her breasts, pulling on the hardened tips and rolling them between his fingers.

 

Sansa moaned and sucked on the skin which joined his throat to his shoulders.  He could feel the sting and the realisation that she was marking him made him harden completely again.

 

“Oh, Little Bird, you’re playing with fire,” he growled.

 

“Mmm, Sandor.  I love your fire.”

 

With a low roar, Sandor flipped her over onto her back on the lounge.  Sansa gave him a wanton look and raised her arms above her head, gripping the armrest, opening her body to him.

 

“Take me,” she ordered.

 

“As you command, my lady,” he rasped and lowered his body to hers.

 

Without any niceties, he sunk into her body, moaning at being inside her again.  Still slippery from their previous bout of sex, he glided in and out of her, watching her tits bounce with each thrust.

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” she panted in time with the pounding of his hips. 

 

Leaning up on his arms, he fucked her furiously, his head nearly exploding from the pleasure, the lounge squeaking beneath them.

 

Sansa squeezed her internal muscles and Sandor lost all control.  With a loud moan, he came inside her, waves of pleasure rippling through him as he spilled himself for ages, despite having come not long before.

 

Feeling his warm seed, Sansa keened as she peaked, gripping his hips and grinding her sensitive bud against him, her body shaking in her ecstasy.

 

Sandor slumped down onto her, catching his breath again, his heart pounding.

 

Was it possible to die from too much pleasure?  He didn’t know, but if it was, then he was a good candidate for croaking it right now.

 

“I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” murmured Sansa, “but, fuck, was it worth it.”

 

Sandor lifted his head in shock.  His Little Bird swore?  He burst out laughing in sheer joy, rolling off her and on to the ground.  Sansa looked down at him, smiling quizzically before shaking her head.

 

“I think it’s time I made that dinner I promised you.  You’re delirious from hunger.”

 

“Only for you, Little Bird.  Only for you.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was hard to concentrate on anything but Sansa after that.

 

Sandor had not stayed over that night, knowing that neither would get much sleep if he did and she was too sore for further ‘nocturnal’ activities, even if she was willing.

 

Dragging himself away after multiple kisses, he’d struggled to wipe the smile from his face, even after showering and lying in his bed.  All his thoughts were of her.

 

He didn’t know for sure, never having felt anything remotely like it, but he believed he might be in love with Sansa Stark.  Someone he’d noticed for weeks but never really knew until five days ago.

 

Did love happen that fast? 

 

Did the fact that most of his waking thoughts, and not a few of his sleeping ones too, were of his Little Bird?  That the thought of her with any other man made him want to kill someone?  That he wanted to protect her, be with her, simply look at her all the time? 

 

Did the fact that sex with Sansa felt like so much more than just sex?  That it felt like a tectonic shift within himself had occurred?  That he’d never felt so much emotion during sex, no matter that the act itself had been so erotic?

 

Was this love?

 

Falling asleep on that thought, his dreams were filled with Sansa, leaving him aching again when he awoke.

 

He got in before her and as soon as she entered, he pulled her into his dressing room and kissed her like he hadn’t seen her in weeks, if not months.

 

“Mmm, Sandor,” she giggled as she breathed in a gulp of air.  “Don’t tempt me.”  His hand was cupping her breast, gently squeezing.

 

“Missed you,” he murmured, licking and nuzzling the skin behind her ear before moving down to the collar of her top and back.

 

“You saw me last night,” she sighed as he sucked on her earlobe.  “You fucked me last night.”

 

Sandor groaned as the urge to bend her over the dressing bench grew with her words.  “You’re so evil, Little Bird.”

 

“You love it, don’t you?”

 

“Hmm, yeah,” he murmured against her lips.  _I love you_.  The thought popped into his head and he gently bit her lip to stop the words from bursting out.  He still didn’t know if this emotion _was_ love and he didn’t want to freak her out, in case she thought it was too soon.

 

Pulling back, he kissed her one last time and pushed her out so that they could get ready.  Jory had warned him that these last three days were the worst as parents realised that time was running out and rushed to get their Santa photos.  Combine this with last-minute shoppers and it was a recipe for chaos.

 

Sandor couldn’t concentrate on the kids and adults that wanted a photo with him.  He struggled to take his eyes off his girlfriend.  His lover.

 

She seemed even more beautiful than she did the day before, and she was perfect then.  He watched as she spoke to the children and their parents.  He watched as she bent down to listen to them, as she prepared her camera, as she touched him when positioning a child.  His breath would catch when she smiled her special smile for him, as if they shared a secret from the world.  Which they did.

 

He wondered if she owned her elf outfit or if it belonged to the store.  He kept envisioning himself fucking her in her outfit, he in the Santa suit, sans bodysuit, while the song ‘Santa Baby’ played in the background.  He was extremely glad the bodysuit hid the effect his kinky thoughts were having on his body.

 

The only time his thoughts were dragged away from his little bird was when a screaming child was placed in his arms or lap.

 

Whenever a ginger-haired kid came up, he would absent-mindedly wonder if her child would have red hair like hers.  Or dark hair like his…

 

_Fucking hell, Sandor!_ He berated himself.  _Sleep with the woman and suddenly you’re imagining your own pups?  Get a grip!_

During their first break of the day, Sandor checked his phone and saw he had a text from his friend, Beric, asking if he wanted to meet up after work for some pre-Christmas drinks.  He hadn’t seen much of Beric lately, not since Beric had found himself a girlfriend.  Again. 

 

Though Sandor wanted to be with Sansa, he felt like he owed it to his friend to spend some time with him.

 

When he told Sansa he was meeting Beric, she had simply kissed him and wished him a good time, saying she’d take the opportunity to pamper herself and do some personal ‘maintenance’.

 

Sandor didn’t understand what that meant and when he asked, she just giggled and told him it was secret women’s business.

 

She also asked him if he wanted to spend Christmas Eve with her.  All of Christmas Eve.  Seeing as how the store closed a couple of hours early that day, Sansa wanted to make them a special dinner, for just the two of them.  The other perk was that he could stay over as they didn’t need to be at her brother’s for Christmas lunch until 1.00pm.

 

Sandor’s eyes glazed over at the thought of spending the whole night making love to Sansa.  This time, he promised himself that he would take his time and worship his little bird like she deserved.  They would have all night.

 

Sandor planned to give her his present that night.  He knew that traditionally the presents were opened once they got to her family’s place, but he didn’t want an audience when he gave her the first gift he’d ever given anyone.

 

No, he needed to be alone with her for such a momentous occasion.

 

The rest of the day flew by and it didn’t seem as if any time had passed before Sandor was kissing his girlfriend goodbye. 

 

“Drive safely, Little Bird,” he murmured against her neck as he gave her gentle nips and breathed her in.

 

“Hmmm, you too,” she replied with a sigh.

 

Giving her a last squeeze on her arse, Sandor backed away and helped her do up her coat buttons.

 

Missing her as soon as she’d left, Sandor donned his jacket and left the building, heading to a nearby pub where he’d arranged to meet Beric.

 

Beric Dondarrion had a swash-buckling air about him that drew women like flies.  It could have been the eyepatch or the aura of danger that he carried, but Beric was rarely without a woman unless he wished it.

 

He was currently going out with a woman called Melisandre, a fellow practitioner of some arcane religion that Sandor didn’t give a shit about.  He’d never met the woman but from Beric’s description, she sounded a bit of a nutter but apparently was hot in bed.

 

Sandor grinned to himself as he thought of his own little vixen.  How an ugly sod like him got so lucky as to have a woman like Sansa want him was beyond him, but he was thankful for it.  More than thankful.

 

He was in absolute awe, to be honest.

 

Seeing that Beric hadn’t arrived yet, Sandor got himself a beer and found an empty table in a corner while he waited.

 

His phone dinged, indicating a text.  Thinking it was Beric, he opened it, only to nearly drop it again.

 

Right there on the screen was Sansa, lying on her bed completely naked and wearing a come-hither smile.  Her message said, ‘ **Just a reminder of what’s waiting for you** ’.

 

“Fuck, Little Bird,” he breathed, his eyes roaming over her body as his mouth watered. 

 

He quickly texted back:  ‘ **You’re such a naughty little bird, aren’t you?  If I wasn’t in public, I’d send you a pic showing what you’ve done to me** ’.

 

The reply was quick.  ‘ **Too bad** **:(** **.  I’d like a pic of your gorgeous dick** ’.

 

Sandor was considering going to the bathroom and giving Sansa what she wanted but he saw Beric walk in.

 

‘ **Send you one later, Little Bird.  Beric’s here**.’

 

‘ **Can’t wait.  XXX**.’

 

Quickly putting his phone away, Sandor greeted his friend.  Beric was good company but he quickly noticed that Sandor was distracted.

 

“What’s up with you, Sandor?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re here, but not really _here_ ,” replied Beric as he took a drink of his scotch.  “So, what’s going on?”

 

Sandor wasn’t about to tell his friend that his head was still on that nude picture of Sansa.  If he could, he’d make that his screensaver.  He could look at it all day.  When he wasn’t looking at the real thing.

 

“Nothing much.  Probably just this shitty Santa crap that I’ve been forced to do this last week.”

 

Beric burst out laughing.  “I can’t imagine anyone less suited to playing Santa than you, Sandor.  What the fuck, man?”

 

For the next ten minutes, Sandor told him the circumstances behind his new ‘career’, Beric nearly rolling off the seat in his mirth.

 

The conversation turned to Beric’s new lover.  Apparently Melisandre was into all sorts of kinky shit, particularly BDSM.  She preferred to be the dominant in their relationship.

 

“And you’re okay with that?” asked Sandor.  He’d never have pegged Beric as enjoying being dominated, but to each his own.

 

“Love it.  I’ve had some the best orgasms in my life since meeting her,” grinned Beric.

 

Sandor could honestly say the same about Sansa, despite the frantic and rushed nature of their coupling. 

 

“Have you ever been in love?”  Sandor didn’t know how that slipped out.  Mortified, he took a gulp of his beer.

 

Beric froze, mid sip, and stared at him for ages before a slow grin creased his face.  “Are you in love, Sandor?”

 

Sandor shook his head.  “No.  Yes.  I don’t know.”  Unable to avoid Beric’s intense stare, Sandor decided to spill his guts.  “I…I think I am but I’m not sure.  I don’t know what love’s supposed to feel like.”

 

“Who is she?”

 

Sandor told him about Sansa, unconscious of the look of adoration that suffused his face as she spoke of her.  An adoration that Beric didn’t miss.

 

“She sounds great, Sandor.” 

 

“Yeah, she’s the most beautiful, kind, sweet woman I’ve ever met.  How she wants to be with me is beyond me.”

 

“And you think you’re in love with her?”

 

Sandor shrugged.  “It’s only been a week since I’ve known her, Beric.  Really known her.  I was attracted to her before I met her but can you fall in love so quickly?”

 

Beric shrugged.  “Sounds like you’re in love to me, Sandor.”

 

“Have you ever felt it?”

 

Looking at Sandor, Beric nodded slowly.  “Years ago, when I was around twenty.  Her parents hated me and convinced her to dump me, which she did.  Took me years to get over her…”  His voice drifted off.  Giving his head a slight shake, he focused back on Sandor.  “Your Sansa sounds like a keeper.  I say you hold on to her, despite what anyone thinks.”

 

Sandor nodded.  “Spending Christmas with her and her family.”

 

Eyebrows raised, Beric grinned.  “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

 

“Fuck off, Beric!” he growled good-naturedly.  “She invited me.  Not like I’ve got any place else to be.”

 

“And have you…you know.”

 

“Not saying, you creep.”

 

Beric laughed.  “Oh, so you _have_!  Good for you.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Lying in bed that night, Sandor stared at Sansa’s picture, thinking of all the ways he planned to worship that body, and her.

 

His thoughts led to the inevitable reaction of his body and with a grin, took several shots of his cock.

 

Sandor was intimately acquainted with his cock but he’d never taken a picture of it before as he studied it objectively.

 

Being a large man, his penis was in proportion with the rest of him, and in his opinion, a rather good specimen.  It was long, straight and had a decent girth.  He’d never had any complaints.  It rose proudly from a thick nest of black hair, his heavy balls nestled between his legs.

 

Taking it in one hand, he filmed himself stroking it for a few seconds, wondering whether to send that as well.

 

In the end, he picked the best shot and added a caption ‘ **Thinking of you** ’.

 

Before he could change his mind, he hit ‘Send’.

 

He hoped Sansa liked his message.

 

The multitude of smiley faces he received in return told him that she did.

 

With a grin, he rolled over and went to sleep, hopefully to dream of his Little Bird.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last two days of being Santa and Sandor encounters someone from Sansa's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more hours until midnight here and we finally say good riddance to 2016. But it hasn't been all bad, as I've met some gorgeous people through my love of Sansan. In this chapter we meet a couple more kids and someone we all love to hate - but Sandor takes care of him!
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful New Year, where ever you may be. I'm heading out in about an hour to catch the local midnight fireworks, while taping the Sydney Harbour fireworks to watch when I get back. They're gorgeous to watch in town, but I'm over battling a million people for a decent viewing spot!

The day before Christmas Eve was the busiest day they’d had so far.

 

Sandor was in his dressing room getting ready when Sansa strolled in without knocking.  With no warning, she launched herself at him, kissing him passionately and almost toppling them off the chair.

 

“Little Bird,” he gasped as she nipped him on his collar bone. 

 

Letting go, Sansa reached around and squeezed his bum playfully.  “I loved your picture.”

 

Sandor grinned.  “Did you now?  I admit to staring at yours for a long time.”

 

She giggled.  “I’ve never done such a thing in my life.  I felt very daring and had to check your number about five times to make sure I was sending it to the right person.”

 

“I nearly choked on my drink when I opened it.  Thought it was from Beric.”

 

“Beric looks like a girl?” she teased.

 

Sandor kissed her laughing mouth.  “Minx.  I really _was_ thinking of you when I took that picture.”

 

“Good.  I stared at it for ages, too.  It’s so beautiful.”

 

“Cocks aren’t beautiful, Little Bird.”

 

“Yours is,” she disagreed.  “It’s so yummy, I can’t wait to taste it.”

 

Sandor groaned and pushed her towards the door.  “Go, before I fuck you in this chair.”

 

“Promises.  Promises.”  With a final kiss, she left the room.

 

Only one and a half more days of this and he could go back to his real job.  While Sandor was looking forward to it, a small part of him would miss seeing his Little Bird all day, every day.  It certainly was a consolation for having all those snotty brats climbing over him.

 

He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but a tiny part of him would actually miss talking to all those snotty brats.  He’d developed an appreciation for how different they all were.  Sandor had always thought all kids were same but they weren’t.  There were the sweet ones, the funny ones, the weird ones and the downright shitty ones but he couldn’t say he’d been bored at any time during the last six days, as was sometimes the case when in his security job.

 

And despite it all, he’d gained something far more precious than he’d ever dreamed.

 

Sansa.

 

For her, he’d do it all again.

 

Though he would wrap Sam Tarly in bubble wrap if necessary to ensure he was hale and hearty to be Santa Claus come next Christmas.

 

And the end of being Santa Claus didn’t mean the end of being with Sansa.  It was only the beginning.

 

Sandor couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

 

That good mood carried over during the day and he was almost jolly.  Almost.

 

The noise levels from all the hyper-excited children, who had realised that there were only two sleeps left until Santa arrived to leave them presents, was deafening.

 

He had to strain to hear the kids and Sansa had to nearly shout her instructions during the photoshoots.

 

Due to the sheer volume of people, the kids were ushered through at an almost frantic pace.  With a diplomacy Sandor could only admire, Sansa somehow hurried the kids and adults through the photoshoots without even seeming to, so that they left happy that they’d gotten their Santa photos.

 

Between the two breaks, a tow-headed little boy swaggered up to him.  Though he was around six or seven, Sandor couldn’t call his walk anything else but a swagger.

 

The boy was dressed to the nines, with his polished shoes and upturned collar.  He obviously considered himself too cool to sit on Santa’s lap as he sat beside him, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee.

 

_Smartarse_ , thought Sandor.

 

“Hey, Santa.  How’re they hanging?”  Even with all the noise, Sandor heard Sansa’s snort of laughter.

 

“Probably a lot better than yours.  Have yours even descended?” replied Sandor, snarkily.  The kid looked at him in confusion.  “What’s your name?”

 

“Bronn.”

 

“And what do you want for Christmas?”

 

“A harem.”  Sansa’s snort had upgraded to a full blown chuckle.

 

“Do you even know what that is?” he asked the cocky kid.

 

“Yeah, I’m seven, you know.  It’s a group of girls that are all my girlfriends,” he replied, looking at Sandor as if he was the dimmest idiot on the planet.

 

“Why the fu…hell would you want that?”

 

“Because I like girls.  They’re pretty and they smell nice.  Usually.  My sister stinks sometimes, though.  I want to have a whole bunch of girlfriends.  I already have three.”

 

Sandor shook his head.  Kids!  “Three, huh?  How do you juggle three girlfriends?  Do they know about each other?”

 

Bronn nodded emphatically.  “Yep.  They all sit at my table in school.  I take turns sitting with my favourite one.”

 

“And what do you do with your girlfriends?”

 

“They hold my hand and they play with me at lunchtime.  Sometimes, they let me use their glitter pencils.”

 

“Sounds good, Bronn.  But don’t you think a harem would be too much?  Like, girls can get really testy at times.  Do you want them mad at you because you sat with another girl at recess?”  Leaning down as if to share an important secret.  “You know, having just one special girlfriend is really the way to go.”

 

Bronn screwed up his face as if Sandor didn’t know what he was talking about.  “And what if she doesn’t come to school?  Who will be my girlfriend that day if I only have one.”

 

Sandor glanced at Sansa would was struggling to hold it in.

 

“Maybe you can just have friends that are girls?”

 

“Yeah.  _G-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d-s_!”  Bronn drawled his words to make sure he understood.  “A harem of girlfriends.”

 

If he wasn’t finding so much amusement from this conversation, he would have flicked the back of Bronn’s head for being such a smart-alec.  “Where did you ever learn about harems, anyway?”

 

“My dad watches shows where the guys have lots of girlfriends and they say the girls are their harem.  ‘Cept they don’t have any clothes on and they kiss a lot.  Gross!”

 

Sandor chanced a glance at Bronn’s mum who was going bright red in the face and he could almost see steam coming from her ears.  Someone was going to have a less than Merry Christmas by the looks of it.

 

“Well, kid, I can’t give you a harem because the rules say I can’t, but I think that if you treat the girls nice, they’ll gladly be your friend.  And when you get older, one of them might even become your special girlfriend.”

 

Sandor Clegane giving relationship advice to a seven year old.  What had the world come to?

 

At the break, Sansa hugged him and laughed heartily.  “Oh, Sandor!  You and that little boy who wanted a harem were so cute!”

 

“Cute?  Fuck me, I’ve become cute!” he spat in mock disgust.

 

“Yes, you were cute,” insisted Sansa.  “And I loved it.”

 

Sandor could only smirk.  If it made the Little Bird hot for him, he’d be cute.

 

That afternoon also brought the weird little girl with the white-blond hair and strangely purple eyes. 

 

She strolled up as if she ruled the world and sat primly next to him, gazing up at him with those intense eyes.  She weirded him out, to be honest.

 

“Uh…what’s your name?”

 

“Daenerys, rightful heir to the throne of Westeros.”

 

“O-kay, then.  What do you want Santa to bring you?”  


“Dragons.  Or dragon eggs will do.  I will hatch them and I will be their mother,” she told him seriously.

 

Hadn’t he wished for some other kid to ask for dragons the other day?  Be careful what you wish for and all that crap.

 

“I’ll have to see what I can do.  Dragon eggs aren’t easy to find now-a-days.   What do you want with dragons?  Wouldn’t a dog be more practical?”

 

Daenerys glared at him.  “With my dragons, I will take back what is rightfully mine.  I will oust that usurper and a Targaryen will once again rule.”

 

“Ah, kid, you do know that we elect our rulers, don’t you?  Got rid of kings and queens a while ago.”

 

“That is a stupid system.  I will rule and all will love me.  I will be firm but fair,” she insisted.

 

“How old are you again?”

 

“Eight.”

 

“And do your parents know that you’re a dictator in the making?”

 

She looked up at him, puzzlement in those purple eyes.  “What’s a dictator?”

 

“Nothing, kid.  Forget it.  I’ll keep an eye out for dragons for you.” 

 

Daenerys smiled at that and happily took a photo. 

 

_Mad as a hatter, that one_ , he thought as she walked off with a man with equally pale hair.

 

By the time the day was done, they were all exhausted.  Sansa asked him if he wanted to come over and he readily accepted, suggesting they pick up some food on the way, to save them from having to cook.

 

Following her back to her place, Sandor could feel the tiredness creeping into his body.  Damn, he was going to spend the evening with his Little Bird but he was so tired, he didn’t know if he could rouse the energy to do anything, as much as his brain was willing.

 

It seemed as if Sansa was in agreement as she suggested they watch a movie after dinner.  She had been yawning all through their meal so he told her to relax and that he’d wash up.

 

Giving him a sweet kiss, she left the room to pick something to watch.

 

Having lived alone for so long, Sandor made quick work of the dishes and made her the tea that she preferred, grabbing a coffee for himself.

 

“You are an angel,” she sighed as took the cup from him.  “I think I might keep you.”

 

Sandor’s heart leapt at her playful words.  “A dog needs a mistress.”

 

“You’re not a dog, Sandor, but I’ll happily be your mistress,” she smirked before breaking out into a huge yawn.  “Oh my, I’m sorry…”

 

“It was a fucking crazy day today, Little Bird, and you were on your feet for most of it.  No wonder you’re tired.  Drink your tea and get comfortable and we’ll watch your movie.”

 

“You _are_ an angel and I lo…I’m so happy you’re here,” she sighed, leaning back onto his chest which provided a wide but very comfortable pillow. 

 

She put on the movie, an old romantic comedy, which were her favourites, and sipped her tea, snug under Sandor’s arm that was wrapped protectively around her.

 

Sandor preferred action and sci-fi to romantic comedy, but if Sansa wanted to watch it, he would do whatever she wanted. 

 

He’d do pretty much anything for her.

 

When, thirty minutes after the movie started, he heard Sansa’s cute little snore, he grinned to himself.   He shifted her so that he could carry her to her bed and she gave a soft sigh when he stood up, snuggling into his neck.

 

Sandor felt his heart expand at her unconscious movement.  That she trusted and felt safe with him brought a tear to his eye, which he hastily blinked away.

 

Placing her gently on her bed, he took off her fluffy slippers, which he thought adorable, and covered her up with her duvet.

 

Bending down, he gave her cheek the softest kiss he’d ever given.

 

“Goodnight, Little Bird.  My love.”

 

Making sure everything was off and all was secure, he left her apartment, a smile on his weary face.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Last day.  I’m gonna miss you, man,” said Jory, as they walked into the break room the next morning.

 

“I’ll be around,” drawled Sandor.  “You can come visit me if your heartbreak gets too much.”

 

Jory laughed and punched his arm before grimacing a little as he shook it out.  “Fuck, man!  You’re built like a brick wall.  No wonder Sansa digs it.”

 

“That’s not the main thing she digs,” he smirked, to which Jory grinned and dropped the topic as Sansa walked in.

 

Face lighting up as she spotted Sandor, she rushed across and pulled him down for a quick but passionate kiss.  “Hello, gorgeous.”

 

“I think you got the wrong guy, Little Bird.”

 

She shook her head.  “Nope.  You’re gorgeous to me.”  How else was he supposed to reply to a statement like that except with another kiss.

 

Unfortunately, Mr Varys walked in right then, interrupting the moment. 

 

“Ah, Mr Clegane!  Last day, I see.  I believe things have worked out rather well, all things considered,” he remarked slyly, glancing between the two lovers. 

 

“Could be worse,” replied Sandor.

 

“As you know, today is a short day but I have a request of you all before you leave this afternoon.”  Sandor didn’t say anything.  “Mr Baratheon - Robert, that is – has asked that his two youngest children get their photo taken after hours.  Therefore, as soon as the official Santa photos end, the children will be escorted over and you will take the photos.  You will be free to leave after that.”

 

Sandor felt Sansa stiffen a little beside him and wondered what that was about.

 

“Will Mrs Baratheon be accompanying the children?” asked Sansa warily.

 

“I believe so, Miss Stark.  As the children of one of the owners of this fine establishment, I don’t feel it necessary for me to tell you that these photos must be perfect and you, Mr Clegane, must be on your best behaviour.”

 

Sandor scowled at Mr Varys’ words.  He hated preferential treatment for the rich, even if it was the owner’s kids.  He just nodded.

 

When Mr Varys left, he turned to Sansa.  “You know these kids?”

 

Sansa nodded.  “They usually do the same thing each year.  Myrcella and Tommen are nice kids.  You’ll have no trouble with them.  Cersei, their mother, can be a bitch…”

 

“I’ve met Cersei Baratheon before,” he interrupted.  “And there’s no ‘can be’ about it.  She is a bitch.”

 

She laughed and left to get dressed.  Sandor did the same, putting on the suit for, hopefully, the last time.  He was hoping these few hours would go quickly as he couldn’t wait to spend the evening with Sansa.  He planned to head home, get changed, pick up his gift and drive over, spare clothes included. 

 

Hopefully, he wouldn’t need any clothes until tomorrow, when they were to go Sansa’s brother’s house.

 

As hoped for, the day flew by and before he even knew it, the last of the photos were being taken.  Only the boss’ kid’s photos, and Sansa was his for the weekend.

 

Within ten minutes, Mr Varys walked up, accompanied by two children around ten and twelve as well as a good-looking blonde man, who smirked nastily when he spotted Sansa.

 

He glanced at Sansa and saw that she had paled a little and was fiddling with the camera, refusing to look at the newcomers.

_What was that about?_   The blond sauntered up to Sansa, who had no choice but to greet him.

 

“Hello, Joffrey.”

 

“Well, if it isn’t Sansa Stark.  Still taking useless photos for a living, I see.”

 

Who the fuck was this fucker to talk to his Little Bird like that?  Sandor felt himself raise from his seat before she spoke.

 

“Yes, I am.  At least I’m doing something useful, rather than snorting away my inheritance.”

 

Joffrey’s face went red and was about to retort when Mr Varys led the children up to him and introduced them.  With one eye on that piece of shit, he spoke to the two children, who really were kind of sweet.  “Is that your uncle?” he asked, glancing at Joffrey, who was glaring at Sansa.

 

Myrcella shook her head.  “He’s our brother.  He didn’t want to come but Mother’s feeling unwell and our nanny is on holidays.  Mother says it’s quite inconsiderate of her to take holidays just to spend Christmas with her family.”

 

Bitch.  “I think she deserves to spend it with who she wants.”

 

“I know.  I’m glad she’s gone.  She’ll enjoy it much better than at our place.  Joffrey’s mean to her sometimes,” the young girl admitted.

 

Sandor realised that having a shit-tonne of money didn’t necessarily equate with having a decent family.  He felt sorry for the two kids.

 

Joffrey had continued to snipe at Sansa while Sandor spoke with his siblings and he could see her face looking more distressed with each comment.

 

Bravely ignoring him, Sansa got several shots of Sandor before declaring that she was done.

 

“At least you’re decent at one thing,” sniped Joffrey.  “You’re not much good at anything else.  Useless in bed.”

 

Two things struck Sandor in that moment.  One, that Sansa had obviously been in a relationship with this jerk and, two, that he was about to kill the wanker.

 

No-one spoke to Sansa like that.  No one.

 

Without conscious thought, Sandor shot up out of the seat and into two steps reached the blonde, grabbing him by the throat.

 

“Sandor!”

 

“Mr Clegane!”

 

Ignoring both of them, Sandor raised his fist and landed a satisfying blow on the shithead’s face, sending him flying over the Christmas decorations, spit and blood spurting in all directions.

 

In a haze of fury, Sandor stood over Joffrey, grabbing his shirt collar, fist raised threateningly again.  The shit whimpered in fear, much to Sandor’s satisfaction.

 

“You ever go near her again, if you so much as say ‘Hi’ to her, I will end you, you hear me?” he growled.  “I’ll make sure there’s not enough of you for anyone to positively identify your remains.  How those kids are that sweet with you and your bitch of a mother as relatives, I don’t know.”

 

“Umf…I’b teb my pather aboub you!”  threatened Joffrey through his broken nose.

 

“Do it, arsewipe.  I’ll enjoy coming after you.”

 

Joffrey whitened as Sandor let him go with a shove, which sent him back into one of the Christmas trees, a shower of baubles raining down on him.  Behind Sandor, he could hear the two children giggling at the sight of their brother.

 

“Mr Clegane!  Do you know what you’ve just done?” gasped Mr Varys.

 

“Yeah, and I’ll do it again if he harasses Sansa again.  And you, did you try to stop it, you arse-licker?  No.  I should report you for failing to do your duty to protect staff.”

 

Mr Varys’s bald head turned a mottled shade of red but he simply pursed his lips and bent to help Joffrey up, who had blood streaming down his front.  “Shall we go, children?  Your brother is in need of medical assistance, I believe.”

 

With simultaneous giggles, Myrcella and Tommen jauntily joined their brother.  “Bye, Santa!  Thank you!” called out Myrcella with a huge grin.

 

It looked like he’d made _somebody’s_ day.

 

He turned and saw Sansa and Jory staring at him.  “What?  Did you think I’d let anyone speak like that to you?”

 

His heart sank as he saw tears gather in her eyes.  Fuck!  He’d blown it with his show of aggression.  He had probably frightened her.

 

Expecting Sansa to rescind her invitation, instead, he was nearly knocked off his feet when she launched herself at him, holding him as close as possible with the suit between them and kissing every bit of exposed skin on his face.

 

“Oh, Sandor!  I can’t believe you did that. For me!  My hero.  I love you, Sandor.”

 

Nearly speechless with wonder and disbelief, all he could do was hug her tightly and whisper in her ear.

 

“I love you too, Little Bird.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the "L" word was spoken!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only two words required: SMUT ALERT!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted some smut - I've delivered :-). I confess, I love writing smut (as difficult as it is at times), so I enjoyed this chapter immensely, lol.
> 
> Also, there's a bit of a NSFW image right at the end - just in case!

Unable to tear themselves away from the other, Sansa grabbed her clothes and joined Sandor in his dressing room to change.

 

Sandor groaned lowly as he watched her strip off her costume and tights, leaving her in a mulberry coloured lingerie set.

“You’re killing me, Little Bird,” he rasped as he tried to divest himself of the suit without taking his eyes off her pert arse as she bent over to put on her jeans.  The little minx only giggled and wiggled said arse more than he believed warranted to pull on the denim.

 

Payback was only fair so he stood only in his black boxer briefs, not even attempting to hide the large bulge that stretched the fabric as he removed the beard.  To his disappointment, Sansa had more self-control than he gave her credit for and didn’t even attempt to molest his willing body. 

 

“How do you know that wanker, Little Bird?”

 

Sansa sighed as she brushed out her hair.  “I went out with Joffrey a couple of years ago.  I was at a low point, still reeling from my parents’ death and I thought he would help me deal with it.  It only lasted for about two months as that was all the time I needed to know that he’s a complete and utter prick.  He took being dumped worse than I expected.  He harassed me for a few months until I took out a restraining order on him.  He left me alone after that and I hadn’t seen him until today.  Obviously, he’s still mad at me.”

 

“If he comes near you again, Little Bird, I will end him.  I wasn’t joking.”

 

She snuggled into his chest, his arms automatically enfolding her body protectively.  “I know.  I could see it in your eyes.”  Gazing up at him, she tenderly caressed his scarred side.  “You really are my hero.  I’ve never had anyone do that for me.”

 

“I love you.  I can’t see you hurt, Little Bird,” he admitted.

 

Pulling his head down, she kissed him eagerly, pouring her feelings into it.  “I love you, Sandor.  It amazes me how much and how quickly I fell for you.”

 

It was quiet for the next couple of minutes as they were lost in each other, the kisses loving rather than frantically passionate this time. 

 

When they pulled apart, Sansa grinned up at him.  “He was completely lousy in bed.  I faked every single orgasm with him.”

 

“You’ll never have to do that with me, Little Bird.  I promise.”

 

“Oh, I’m holding you to that, lover.  Starting today,” she grinned.  “If the other night was anything to go by, I might be walking like a jockey by the end of Christmas.”

 

“There are plenty of positions to give your legs a rest, Little Bird, and I intend to use all of them,” he rasped against her neck, gently squeezing her bum.

 

“Mmm, let’s go.  The sooner we do, the sooner you get back to my place,” she moaned.

 

With a final peck on the lips, they gathered their things and exited the dressing room.  After saying goodbye to everyone and wishing them all a Merry Christmas, they left hand in hand.  Down in the carpark, Sandor pressed her back against her car and ground himself into her as he took her face in his hands and ravaged her mouth, uncaring of the last-minute Christmas shoppers that gave them side glances.

 

“Hurry back to me, my love,” she gasped.

 

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he promised. 

 

“I’ll get dinner ready so we can eat as soon as you get there.  I don’t feel like wasting time with food later.  Do you?”

 

His erection throbbed at her words.  “No.  Once I have you naked, you’ll stay that way, Little Bird.”

 

With an almost Herculean effort, Sandor pulled himself away and returned to his car, watching her drive off with a sigh.

 

 _Man, you have it bad_ , he told himself.  _Yep, I sure do.  And I love it_.

 

After showering, he dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt, adding his favourite leather jacket over the top and packed a bag with clothes for the next couple of days.  He was on leave until after New Year, which he’d applied for months before, planning on watching a lot of football and hockey in that time.  Now, he hoped to spend most of those days fucking his Little Bird.

 

He also packed a bottle of whiskey and some red wine which he planned to give Sansa’s brother and his wife as a thank you for having him, despite Sansa saying he didn’t need to bring anything.  Not knowing her other siblings, he’d bought some nice chocolates as a small gift.

 

With a last look around, he closed his door and headed to Sansa’s, whistling a Christmas tune under his breath.

 

It was only just after four in the afternoon, but as they hadn’t taken a break during the day, Sandor was starving so he considered it a good thing that they had an early dinner as he didn’t want to expire from hunger when he had Sansa naked before him.

 

She was wearing a thin sweater dress in a pretty green which set off her auburn hair when she opened her door to his knock.  He could smell a roast cooking and his stomach rumbled loudly.

 

Sansa laughed as she hugged him tightly.  “Someone’s hungry,” she chuckled.

 

“And not just for you, Little Bird.  What smells so good?”

 

“I set a pork leg to roast this morning and it’s nearly ready.  I just have to mash the potatoes and finish the gravy and we can eat.  Come and make yourself comfortable.”

 

Sandor put down his bag in her bedroom, noting the candles that she’d lit.  His pulse rose rapidly and for a moment considered talking Sansa into forgetting about dinner but his stomach rumbled again and she’d gone to all that trouble for him.  They were in no rush, after all.

 

That didn’t preclude him from nuzzling her neck and feeling her up as she worked, giggling and slapping his hands when they got in the way.

 

“Stop it, you naughty Santa or we’ll never eat,” she warned with a laugh as he licked beneath her ear.  “Here, make yourself useful and set the table as I plate this up.”

 

“Bossy Little Bird,” he remarked. 

 

“You know it,” she retorted.  “Go.”

 

Dinner was delicious and Sandor didn’t hesitate to tell her so.  “I always thought that old adage of the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach was a crock of shit.  The way to his heart is through his cock, to my way of thinking, but after this meal, I might be changing my mind.”

 

“So, to keep you happy and faithful, I just have to cook delicious meals?” she teased, taking a sip of her wine.

 

“You never have to worry about my faithfulness, Little Bird,” he rasped earnestly.  “Since you’ve wormed your way into my heart through both my cock and my stomach, how could I ever want anyone else?  You, Sansa Stark, are the perfect woman.”

 

Sansa’s eyes glittered with tears at his words as she moved to sit on his lap.  “I’m far from perfect, Sandor.”

 

“You love me, so that makes you perfect to me.  No one’s ever loved me before, Little Bird.  Just as I’ve never loved anyone.”

 

“Never?”

 

He shook his head.  “Never.  Not even close.  I can’t even see anyone but you.”

 

With a shaky sigh, Sansa leaned up and kissed him, opening her mouth for his possession, which he gladly took.  Hands travelling all over her back, he kissed his Little Bird with all his love.

 

“Love you,” he whispered as he licked and nipped at her throat.  “Love my Little Bird.”

 

“Sandor, please, take me to bed,” she pleaded as she wiggled her bum on his lap and popped open the top few buttons of his shirt so that her hands could trace over the soft hair on his chest.

 

Determined to worship Sansa this time, he picked her up and cradled her to his chest, her arms entwined around his neck, lips never leaving his. 

 

Kicking her door shut, he gently placed her on her bed, illuminated by the various candles that were, luckily, not near the bed.  He was still nervous around open flames.  Her side lamps sent a soft glow over the floral quilt, allowing him to see her properly without the harsh glare of the ceiling light.

 

Scrambling back on the bed, Sansa made to pull up her dress but Sandor stopped her.

 

“I want to do it,” he replied to her unasked question.  “I want to take my time and pleasure you.  I want to taste you everywhere, make you cry out from the sensations.  I want to make you come with my hands, tongue and cock.  I want you to know that no-one else will ever make you feel the way I can.  I want to make love to you.  This time.  Later, we can fuck like animals.”

 

Sansa’s little whimper of delight was all the answer Sandor needed.  “Can…can I do the same to you, after?”

 

“Oh, Little Bird, there’s nothing in this world that could stop you.  Lie back.  This time it’s about you.”

 

Stacking a couple of pillows so that she could see what he was doing, Sansa lay back and watched as he slowly undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing his glorious chest and taut stomach.  He watched her lick her lips when he took off his jeans, leaving him in his customary tight black boxer briefs, the material strained at the front.

 

“I’m going to suck you so good later,” she purred, enjoying how his erection throbbed at her words.

 

“You can do whatever you like to my body, Little Bird,” he croaked.  “It’s yours.”

 

Kneeling on the end of the bed, he reached out and stroked her stocking-clad leg, enjoying the silkiness of the material on her skin.  Looking in her eyes, he caressed each foot, calf and knee, before stroking up under the hem of her dress to reach her thighs.  When he encountered the lace that held up the stocking, he moaned a little, especially when his fingers touched the satiny skin of Sansa upper thigh.

 

“Fuck, Little Bird,” he rasped.  “I love stockings.”  His hands caressed the skin of her inner thighs but didn’t reach higher, despite Sansa’s heady pleas to touch her.  “Not yet.”  Instead, he slowly pushed up the hem, revealing the delightful contrast of black silk against her pale skin.  “Mmm, so sexy,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the skin, breathing in the scent of her arousal.

 

As the dress was pushed further up, the red lingerie that she was wearing came into view.  Sandor was beginning to doubt his willpower to take this slow.  Delicate satin and lace titillated his eyes, a patch of arousal clearly visible.  “Already wet for me, Little Bird?” he crooned, kissing the material over the pubis mons, making her gasp.  “I can’t wait to taste that beautiful little cunt, sup on your wetness.”

 

Sansa was rubbing her thighs together as she tried to get some relief from her arousal but Sandor wasn’t ready yet. 

 

“Lift up,” he asked so that he could get the dress further up.  Sansa complied eagerly as he pushed it up to her breasts, kissing and licking the skin of her belly, tonguing her bellybutton before heading up and revealing the matching bra.  Sitting up, Sandor took off the dress completely, throwing it off to the side.

 

“Fuck me, but I don’t know what I did to get this lucky, Little Bird,” he whispered throatily.  “Look at you.  A fucking goddess.  My goddess.”  His hands spanned her waist, his fingers softly caressing her pale skin until they reached her red, satin-covered breasts.   He could see her erect nipples clearly outlined by the material.  He sat back and admired her for a moment. 

 

Lying there, so trusting and loving, the heat of desire blazing in her amazing blue eyes, wearing her matching red lingerie and thigh-high stockings, Sandor couldn’t imagine a more erotic sight.  “Fuck, but I love you, Little Bird.”

 

“I love you too, my Sandor,” she breathed.  “I’m so wet for you already.  I just want you inside me.”

 

Sandor felt his cock leak at her words, a small wet patch appearing on the front of his boxers.  “Soon, baby, soon.”

 

Leaning back over her again, he tongued his way from her feet, up her legs, hips, waist, breasts and throat until he reached her mouth, open and ready for his invasion.  Kneeling over her, he kneaded her breasts, pushing the material under them so that her turgid nipples pointed up invitingly.  Still kissing, he rolled her nipples, pulling at them to elicit fevered moans into his mouth.

 

Breaking off with a gasp when her hands reached down and palmed his cock, he pulled back and gently removed her hands.  “Uh-uh, Little Bird.  You do that and I’ll come all over your hands.”

 

“Sounds good,” she replied.

 

“I told you, this time is for you.”

 

“And what if I want you fuck my brains out?” she pouted prettily.

 

Flicking her nipple, he grinned.  “Such an impatient Little Bird, aren’t you?”

 

“Fuck you,” she replied, making Sandor chuckle throatily.

 

“Oh, you’re going to.  I promise.  Now, shush.”

 

Getting back to the job at hand, Sandor took one of those nipples in his mouth, sucking and rolling it with his tongue, his hand ensuring its twin wasn’t neglected.  Sansa moaned beneath him as he suckled her for a while before reaching behind to undo the bra.  This time he managed it without her assistance and it quickly joined her dress on the floor.

 

As his mouth was occupied with her breasts, his hand traced her skin down to the satin panties and in between her legs, groaning as he found out just how aroused she was.  The crotch was soaked and got even more so when his finger rubbed the material against her.

 

“Sandor!” she gasped.  “Please!”

 

Not wanting to be cruel, Sandor let her nipple go with a pop and moved back between her legs.  Looking up at her face, flushed with pleasure, he slowly pulled down her underwear, kissing the exposed skin as he went.  He decided to leave her stockings on for now as he wanted to feel their silkiness rubbing on his skin  and it was sexy as fuck.

 

His blood was throbbing through his veins as he got a good look at her soaked cunt, glistening pink with arousal for him.

 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, as one finger gently traced the plump outer lips before parting them to reveal his prize.  She was so wet that his finger was almost instantly coated in her juices, making it easy to slide up and down, circling and rubbing her swollen clit before moving down to enter her, her warmth nearly burning him.

 

“Fuck!  Oh god!” she keened as he added a second finger, spreading her wider and slowly pumping them in and out. 

 

Sandor couldn’t wait a moment more, so he shimmied himself down, his cock pleasantly pressing against the bedding, and dived in to taste her.

 

She tasted like the sweetest honey, in his opinion.  He eagerly sucked at her clit, his tongue flicking it back and forth.

 

“Sandor!  Shit, I’m going to come!” she cried out, her hips writhing beneath him, so much so, that he had to place a hand on her belly to hold her still.

 

“Come, Little Bird,” he rasped, his lips wet.  “I want to hear you.”  With that, he resumed his pleasant task, alternating his tongue with his fingers until he discovered what she seemed to prefer.  Two fingers stroking her inside while his tongue pressed on her clit seemed to be the magic touch as, with her hands pulling his hair, Sansa cried out as she climaxed, her whole body shaking as pleasure suffused her body.

 

Sandor had to concentrate really hard not come himself just from watching his Little Bird peak.  He kept going until she pushed his head away, panting.  “Too…too sensitive.”

 

He grinned, knowing it wouldn’t take long before he could touch her again.  With a last lick of her juices, he moved up to cover his body with hers as he kissed her deeply, sharing her own taste with her.

 

Sansa opened passion-filled eyes as she recovered her senses.  “Wow!  I saw stars, I think,” she panted.

 

“Good.  There’s plenty more where that came from, Little Bird,” he smirked.  “I think I could live on the taste of you alone.”

 

“You’d get sick of going down on me,” she replied with a giggle.

 

“Never,” he shook his head.  “Can I live between your legs?”  


“What about your poor, neglected cock?” she crooned, rolling her hips up so that his boxers got soaked by her arousal. 

 

Sandor hissed and pulled his hips back.  “Oh, he’ll get his fair share of you, Little Bird.  Roll over,” he instructed as he knelt up again.  At Sansa’s look he nodded.  “Go on.”

 

With a puzzled smile, she did as she was bid, her long back and plump arse cheeks on display.  With a small moan, he took one cheek in each hand, squeezing and fondling the soft flesh, whilst leaning down to take gentle bites, making her giggle.

 

From this angle, her soaked cunt peeked up at him from between her legs and it took all his strength not to shove his swollen cock into her and pound her like a dog.

 

Instead, he crawled up her body and pushed her hair to the side, exposing the nape of her neck.  Tenderly, he sucked on the skin as his hands massaged her back, rubbing them sensually up and down, making her moan in hedonistic pleasure.

 

“Like that, Little Bird?” he murmured against her shoulder blade as he took a nip.

 

“Hmm mmm,” was all the reply he got.

 

Fearing that she would fall asleep if he carried on like this too long, he licked his way down her spine until he reached the curve of her arse and licked down the crease until he reached her centre again.

 

“Oh!” she moaned as his tongue pushed inside, his long nose poking her little puckered hole.  As he fucked her with his tongue, he reached down and pulled off his boxers, not without a little difficultly as he was so hard it was almost painful.

 

Wanting her to climax again before he entered her, he reached up and played with her clit again, which was so swollen that he had no trouble finding it, even from this angle.

 

“ _Oh, shit!!_ ” she cried, her voice muffled by the pillow as she came again.

 

This time, Sandor pushed open her legs, still trembling from her orgasm and pressed his turgid cock against her crease, gritting his teeth.

 

“I’m going to fuck you now, Little Bird,” he panted against her ear.  “Okay?”

 

Beyond words, she nodded and pushed her arse up in invitation. 

 

Taking himself in hand, he tugged a couple of times before pressing into her opening.  With a loud grunt, he pushed into her, her heat and tightness, particularly in this position, making his eyes roll back at the intense sensation.

 

“Fuck, Little Bird!” he gasped.  “My Little Bird.”

 

“Oh god, Sandor!” she cried.

 

“Do you…like it…like this, baby?” he panted in her ear, pushing all the way in until he was buried to the hilt, his aching balls getting coated by her cum.

 

“Fuck, _YES_!” she screamed into the pillow.  “Fuck me, Sandor!”

 

Wanting to savour this, Sandor began pumping his hips at a steady pace, delighting in the sensations of her cunt gripping his cock as if she didn’t want to let go.

 

Her moans got louder as he sped up, his balls slapping her sensitive clit with each thrust

 

“So tight, Little Bird,” he ground out, so far inside her that he never wanted to leave.

 

He could feel his balls tighten as he neared his climax and he suddenly realised that he wanted to watch her face as they came. 

 

Sandor wanted to watch his beloved Sansa’s face as he made love to her.  His first time making love.

 

Sansa whimpered loudly in disappointment as he pulled out his glistening cock, the head a dark purple and weeping copiously.

 

“Wha…?” she ground out.

 

“Shh, baby.  I want to watch you come,” he soothed, turning her over and spreading her legs wide.

 

Sansa smiled and lifted her knees to accommodate him between her thighs.  The look in her eyes was one of pure eroticism.

 

Kneeling between her legs, he placed one on his shoulder, kissing the silk-covered calf as he took hold her hips and thrust back into her, gasping again.  He knew he’d never get enough of her, as long as he lived.

 

“Love you,” he ground out as he pounded into her, nipping at the leg that rubbed against his scars whilst the other rubbed along his hip.

 

“L…love…you…too,” she panted, her head thrashing on the pillow and breasts bouncing with every thrust.  “So…so…much.”

 

“Come…with…me,” he pleaded.  He was about to explode and he wanted nothing more than to drown in the ecstasy alongside her.

 

She nodded.  “So…close.”

 

Sandor could see the flush rising over her body and the trembling begin, signalling that her climax was close, alongside the fluttering of her cunt on his cock.

 

Wanting to send her over the edge, he rubbed her clit with his thumb and leaned down kiss her, his tongue mimicking what his cock was doing.  “Now, Little Bird,” he rasped.  “I…love…you.”

 

With a shrill cry, Sansa threw her head back as ripples of sensation flowed over her as she climaxed, dragging him with her.

 

With a hoarse shout, Sandor exploded into her, his cock throbbing violently as he came, grinding down in an effort to draw out every tiny bit of carnal pleasure from their bodies, the feel of stocking-clad thighs clinging to him driving him on.

 

Sandor felt light headed as his body wrung the last ounce of pleasure from him before he collapsed into her arms, both of them panting furiously, a fine layer of sweat covering their bodies.

 

Without realising it, they fell asleep together, bodies still joined and hearts pounding in sync with the other.

 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a couple of chapters to go, I think.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff and more fluff. And some smut...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this story. I'll be adding an epilogue as I seem to be addicted to those - must be my need to find closure in everything :-).
> 
> There is some more smut and fluff. Lots of fluff.

Sandor woke up as sparks of pleasure shot through him, originating at his groin.  Lifting his head, he looked down and gasped when he saw Sansa delicately licking his rapidly growing member. 

He briefly wondered how long he’d been asleep but that thought was pushed aside instantly when she took him in her mouth and sucked eagerly. 

“Fuck!  Little Bird,” he moaned, head falling back onto the pillow.  

Sansa let him go, to his disappointment.  “Hello, sleepyhead.  Though this head down here is anything but sleepy,” she teased, giving the base a quick lick. 

Sandor grinned and raised himself up on his elbows.  “You wore me out earlier, Little Bird.”

“Was it my fault you couldn’t get enough of me?”

“Yes, Little Bird, it was.  You’re too gorgeous for me to resist,” he replied, truthfully.

“Well, I could say the same,” she crooned, rubbing his cock up and down.  “You’re delicious.” 

Letting go, she moved up and kissed him deeply, tongues dancing together as her hands stroked his chest, running her fingers through the hair there.  He couldn’t resist reaching up to cup her breast and massage it.

Sansa pulled back and with a wicked smile began kissing her way down his throat, sucking on the spot that still had a small bruise from the other night.  Her fingernails softly scratched his chest, tracing every dip of muscle and sinew.   

“You’re so strong,” she murmured, kissing his pectoral muscle before sucking nipple into her mouth.  “So defined.”  She moved across to the other nipple.  “So hot.”

“Ahh, Little Bird,” he sighed as she suckled his nipple.  He’d never realised it was so sensitive.

Her tongue then traced her way south, licking the ‘v’ of his hips.  “Your thighs are like tree trunks,” she continued throatily.  “So much power in them.  And they beautifully frame these,” she murmured, cupping his balls and gently squeezing.

Sandor groaned as she bent and took one in her mouth.  “Shit, that feels good,” he sighed.  She just let go and gave the other one her attention.

His cock was visibly pulsing with the need for attention so he took himself in hand but Sansa instantly pushed it away.

“No, it’s my turn,” she insisted.  “I want to do it.”

Who was Sandor to argue with a lady, especially one who wanted to play with his cock?  So he crossed his arms behind his back and let her have her way with him.  “Do as you will, Little Bird.”

With a delighted grin, Sansa took him in both hands and crooned softly.  “So lovely and long.  And just the right thickness.  Fills me so perfectly.  I could feel every ridge inside me.  Drove me crazy.  I’m already dripping just thinking about how it will stretch me and make me come.”

Sandor couldn’t help moaning at her words.  She was so damned sexy!

“But first, I’m going to drive you crazy, my Sandor, and then I’m going to fuck you.  Would you like that?”

Nodding urgently, all he could rasp was “Yes.”

Slowly, she traced the thick vein on the underside of his cock with her tongue, licking all the way up to the head and back again a number of times.

“Mmm, so hard and so soft at the same time,” she murmured.  “I love your cock, my love.”

Opening her mouth, she took him in her mouth again, as far as she was able.  Sandor groaned loudly as her plump lips moved up and down his cock, coating it with her saliva and sucking in her cheeks.

“Fuck me!” he muttered as he cupped her head, in order to guide her.

Taking his balls in one hand, Sansa alternately sucked and stroked his cock, making it harder than ever.

“Shit, Little Bird, that’s too good.  You’re going to make me come,” he ground out hoarsely.

Letting go, somewhat reluctantly, her lips glistening, Sansa smiled at him.  “Next time.  Right now, I want you inside me.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Giving him a couple more strokes, Sansa moved up his body and positioned herself over him.  With a soft sigh, she lowered herself, taking him inside all the way before stopping.

“Give me your hands,” she demanded.  Sandor instantly complied, engulfing her hands in his huge ones.

Eyes locked on his, Sansa began moving back and forth, dragging moans from both of them.  Sandor wanted to take one of her nipples in his mouth but she kept hold of his hands.

“Mmm, you feel so good inside me, Sandor,” she sighed throatily.  “I can feel every inch of you.  I’m so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one…Little Bird,” he ground out. 

“We’re both lucky…to have…found each…other.”

He nodded, grunting as her movements sped up, alternating between back and forth and up and down motions, dragging loud gasps from both of them.

Sandor could feel his impending climax and was about to warn her when she suddenly stopped, his cock slipping out as she kneeled up.

“Wha…?”

Sansa turned around and kneeled on all fours before turning to face him.  “This way.  Fuck me like this.”

Sandor roared in approval and hastily sat up, his cock bouncing in the air.  “Anything for my Little Bird.”

Hungry for another taste of her, he bent down and licked her dripping wetness a couple of times before positioning himself behind her.

“Ready?”

She nodded and wiggled her bum impatiently.  Not one to deny his love anything, he pushed back into her, moaning at her warmth and tightness.  He was so deep inside that he realised he had to be careful not to hurt her.

For the next few minutes the only sounds heard were their cries of ecstasy and of sex, the slapping of their bodies coming together and the faint squeak of the bed beneath them.

Sandor gripped her hips as he fucked her as hard as he felt he could, loving her throaty moans as she threw her head back. 

“I’m…gonna…come,”  she panted.  “I…can’t…”

“I…know…baby,”  he breathed heavily.  

Bending over her, he braced himself on one hand while the other reached beneath her, seeking her bud.

“Come,” he demanded.  

Unable to help it, his orgasm blindsided him, shouting out as a waves and waves of bliss pounded him.  Frantically rubbing her clit and thrusting as he emptied himself inside her, he smiled as she keened loudly, her own climax overwhelming her.

Feeling weakness stealing over him in his satiation, he pulled out and rolled back onto the bed, pulling her over him as they struggled to catch their breaths.

“Fucking hell!” he wheezed as he held her tight.

Sounding hoarse, she giggled and squeezed him, not wanting to be parted.

For endless minutes they lay in the soft light, regathering their senses and marvelling at how physically compatible were they were.

Sandor had never believed that romantic garbage about people being meant for each other before, but with Sansa, it was like he’d always been waiting for her to appear in his life.

He couldn’t fuck this up.  Without her, he’d want to off himself.  He never wanted to return to the soul deep loneliness that his life had been before her.  Whatever it took, he’d be what she needed. 

“What time is it, Little Bird?”  He had wondered about it before he was so pleasantly distracted.

Sansa raised her head and reached over for her phone on the bedside table. 

“It’s just past twelve-thirty.  Merry Christmas, my love.”

Sandor cupped her face and kissed her deeply.  “Merry Christmas.  You’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever received, Little Bird.”

“And you’re mine.  I love you, Sandor.”

“And I love you.  You’ll never know how much,” he whispered earnestly, love for her suffusing his entire being.

Satiated for the time being, they were content to hold each other close and kiss tenderly until Sandor made to get up.

“Where are…”

“Just getting your Christmas present, Little Bird,” he told her, standing up in all his naked glory, feeling her eyes on him as he reached into his bag, looking for her gift.

Pulling out the small package, he returned to the bed and sat facing her, holding it out.  “I know you normally give presents when you get to your brother’s, but, I…I wanted to give you this…privately.”  Feeling a blush steal over his face, he swallowed nervously.  “I…I’m not used to buying gifts so…so I hope…it’s okay.”

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears as she took the brightly coloured package.  “Oh, Sandor!  Whatever it is, I’ll love it because it’s from you,”  she sniffed.

“Open it,” he urged.

Carefully, she unpicked the tape and uncovered the little jewellery box.  Opening it, she gasped and covered her heart with her hand.  “It’s gorgeous!”

“I saw it and thought of you,” he explained, a strange feeling in his chest.

Reaching in, she lifted out the pendant so that it dangled from her hand, sparkling in the lamplight.  “I love it so much, Sandor.  I’ll wear it always,” she promised.  “Put it on me?”

Unable to refuse, he held out his hand and instantly wondered how the hell were his big, clumsy fingers going to manage something so small and delicate.

Looking at it as if it were the inner workings of the Hadron Collider, Sandor struggled with the catch until Sansa laughed and took pity on him.

“Here, like this,” she instructed, showing him how to work the clasp.

With a lot of fiddling and not a small amount of swearing, Sandor finally managed to get the necklace on her, kissing the nape of her neck tenderly.

Hopping up, Sansa ran to her mirrored door to admire the way the pendant looked on her, while Sandor lazily admired her stunning nakedness. 

He was idly wondering if his body was up to another round yet when she ran out of the room, telling him to stay put.

When she returned, she was carrying a pitcher of water, a couple of glasses and gift-wrapped package.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m parched after all that exercise,” she explained, putting them down on the bedside table, and sitting back next to him.  “My present isn’t as fancy as yours but it is from my heart,” she said, handing it to him.

“You didn’t need to get me anything, Little Bird,” he told her earnestly.  “You’ve given me more than I’ve ever received already.”  Eagerly, unused to receiving gifts, Sandor ripped open the paper to find a black and yellow scarf, accompanied by leather gloves and a black woollen hat.

“I don’t know yet what you really like so I got you something to help keep you warm,” she explained with a nervous smile.

Sandor stared at the gifts for a long moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat.  Her gift showed her care of him and was incredibly thoughtful.  They hadn’t known each other long enough to know all each other’s likes and dislikes, so it would have been difficult to pick something.

Clearing his throat, Sandor smiled at her.  “I love them, Little Bird.  I really do.  I’ve never received such a gift.  Thank you.”

Leaning over, he kissed her tenderly, caressing the skin of her cheek as he did so.

When she pulled away, she gave a huge yawn, making Sandor laugh.

“I’ll have to learn to do better if my kisses send you to sleep,” he joked.

Leaning into him she chuckled and shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  That just crept up on me.”

“I know, Little Bird.  It’s late.  How about we go to sleep?  I’ve looked forward to sleeping with you again, almost as much as fucking you.”

Sansa laughed and slapped his chest.  “I’ll just put the dinner plates in to soak overnight.  They’re still on the table.”

With a peck on the top of her head, Sandor stood up.  “I’ll take care of that if you want to get ready for bed,” he offered.

She nodded.  “Yeah, I have to…ah…” she looked down and Sandor nodded.  After their vigorous activities, they needed to clean up.  “How about joining me in the shower when you’re done?”

“Sounds good,” he replied eagerly.  A quick fuck in the shower before snuggling up to sleep sounded like his idea of a perfect night.  Even more perfect.  Tonight was the best night of his life.

As hoped for, he joined her in the shower, where they washed each other, the intimate touches setting them afire again, leading him to lift her up against the cool tiles and make love to her with the warm water falling on their heads.

Afterwards, he helped dry her hair, loving the feel of the silky red strands between his fingers.

Lying in her bed, with her head resting over his heart, Sandor felt a peace within himself that he’d never before known.  Much of the internalised rage he’d felt at the world seemed to have calmed since he’d met Sansa.

Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head before murmuring, “Love you, Sansa.”

A sleepy, mumbled, “Love you, too,” was his reply.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * * * * * * * *

Sandor rolled over, subconsciously reaching out to pull his Little Bird closer but encountered only cotton sheets.

Opening one eye, he frowned to discover that Sansa wasn’t in bed and was about to jump out to find her when his nose detected the scent of freshly cooking pancakes.

Flopping back on the pillow, he sighed happily, remembering their early morning activities.

Sometime around dawn, they had turned to each other, drowsy from sleep but with a slow-burning hunger.  Lazy kisses had turned to slow, languorous lovemaking, the urgency of the previous night gone, leaving just the feeling of deep connection with the other.  Climaxing together, even that was more like a slow wave than a ferocious tsunami.

They had gazed at each for ages until they drifted back to sleep, intimately entwined.

The sound of cutlery roused Sandor from his pleasant thoughts.  Pulling on his jeans, he padded into the kitchen to see Sansa wrapped in a bathrobe, cute fluffy slippers on her feet, pouring more pancake batter into the pan, a small stack of already cooked ones beside her.

Sneaking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly as he reached down to kiss her exposed collarbone.  “Mmm, what smells so good?  Other than you.”

Dropping the spatula, Sansa spun around in his arms and wrapped hers around his neck, reaching up for his kiss, which he more than dutifully gave.  “Good morning, my love,” she breathed.

“The best morning ever, Little Bird.”

“I’m just getting breakfast for us.  I don’t know about you, but I woke up ravenous.”

“I wonder why?” he joked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Could it be the insatiable man that I had in my bed all night?” she replied cheekily.  “Woke me up at the crack of dawn and ravaged me,” she gasped in mock horror.

“I seem to remember it rather differently,” he drawled.  “I believe there was ravaging by both parties.”

“Probably,” she chuckled and kissed him again.  The smell of burning pancake roused them and she jumped back.  “Shit, the pancake!”

Sandor laughed and grabbed the pan, tossing the ruined batter in the bin.  “Sacrificed for a good cause.”

“Grab the jam, maple syrup and anything else you want on your pancakes while I finish cooking these, will you?”

“Sure thing, Little Bird.”

They worked in harmony and it didn’t take long before Sandor was tucking into fluffy pancakes.

“Delicious…” he commented as he forked several layers of pancakes into his mouth.  “I’m definitely keeping you, Little Bird,” he joked.

“I’m _so_ relieved, Sandor,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at him. 

As they sat, sipping their coffee, Sandor reflected that he couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be than sitting here in Sansa’s kitchen, with her, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

“I’m really glad you broke Sam’s leg,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Sandor’s good eyebrow rose.  “Got some sadistic tendencies I haven’t discovered yet, Little Bird?” he drawled humorously.

“No, silly man,” she giggled.  “I’m just happy that it allowed me to meet you.”

“Me too, Little Bird, me too.”  Taking her hand, he stroked the delicate skin lovingly.  “This has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had.  Thanks to you.”

“Hopefully, it will be the first Christmas of many, Sandor,” she declared.

“If it’s up to me, it will be,” he rasped.  “Will you spend the next week with me?  I want to take you out on dates, watch crappy movies together, see in the New Year with someone I love for the first time.”

Hopping into his lap, Sansa rested her forehead against his.  “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.  But first we have to run the gauntlet of my family,” she joked.

Sandor groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder.  “There goes that.”

“Don’t be silly.  When they see how well you treat me, they’ll love you,” protested Sansa.  “We need to get ready soon.”

Sandor nodded and held her close.  “Merry Christmas, Sansa.”

Cupping his face tenderly, she gazed into his grey eyes.  “Merry Christmas, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to come!
> 
> Btw, I removed the extra paragraph spaces in this chapter. Which do you prefer? With or without extra spaces?


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Sansa - where are they now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is guys - the epilogue! Lots of fluff coming up. 
> 
> I've had so much fun writing this and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Thank you for all your comments, kudos and for reading it. I still say the Sansan fans are the loveliest around and I love hearing from you.

_364 days later:_

“Have they kicked out all the customers yet?” growled Sandor pushing away Beric’s hands as they attempted to straighten his tie.

“Mr Varys got the security guys to ensure the whole floor was emptied,” replied his friend calmly.

“Good. Don’t want any fucking gawkers around.”

“How’d you stop him from allowing the media in?” asked Beric, picking at non-existent fluff on Sandor’s shoulder.

“Showed him a video of he and another staff member doing something that would most likely not go down well with the bosses, if you know what I mean?” smirked Sandor, remembering with pleasure the look on Mr Varys’ face when shown what the security cameras had picked up. “Couldn’t do enough to help get this organised after that,” he chuckled.

Beric laughed and shook his head. “Good one, Sandor. Nervous?”

“No…and yes.” At Beric’s confused look, he tried to explain. “I’m not nervous about what I’m doing, just about doing it in front of all those people.”

“You’ll be fine. You look great and you know what a lucky guy you are to have someone like Sansa.”

Sandor nodded, a soft look on his face as he thought about his Little Bird.

“Man, you are so love-struck that I might have to hold you down so you don’t float away in a haze of butterflies and rainbows!”

“Fuck off,” chuckled Sandor. “And stop pinching my arse!”

“Just making sure you look perfect for Sansa,” protested Beric.

The dressing room door opened and Rickon stuck his head in. “Sansa’s on her way, Sandor. It’s show time!”

Sandor nodded and took a deep breath to steady those nerves that suddenly decided to make a nuisance of themselves.

After all, this was a day he never in his wildest dreams ever thought he would be a part of.

His wedding day.

* * * * *

Christmas Day with Sansa’s family had been full of mixed emotions for Sandor.

On the one hand, the fact that he was with Sansa made it the best Christmas he’d ever had. Even if they had stayed home and eat toasted cheese sandwiches, he couldn’t ask for anything more.

On the other hand, seeing the way Sansa’s family loved each other and the genuine enjoyment they found in each other’s company, just brought home how fucked up his own family had been. He’d always thought all that schmaltz about Christmas and being together with loved ones was just advertisers’ bullshit to get more sales.

But Sansa’s family was nearly like the adverts. He figured if her parents were still alive, it would be a picture perfect postcard.

Sansa’s brother and sister-in-law, Robb and Roslin, had graciously welcomed him into their home, introducing him to their two children, Ned and Cate, named for their late grandparents. Roslin was pregnant again and fairly glowing with it.

Never at his best with strangers, Sandor made sure he was on his best behaviour as he knew that his relationship with her family would matter to Sansa.

She must have warned them of his scars previously as none of them seemed shocked by the sight of them. The children asked him how he got his ‘sores’ and he gave them a brief explanation which satisfied them and the issue was closed.

Arya, Sansa’s sister, arrived with her husband and two younger brothers, and the noise level immediately tripled.

Gendry, Sansa’s brother-in-law, was a quiet guy (probably couldn’t get much of word in edgewise), who greeted him warmly before hugging Sansa.

Bran and Rickon shared an apartment and were going to stay the night. Rickon thought his scars were ‘lit’, whatever the fuck that meant, and made him look like a total badarse. He’d seen the video with Meryn and made Sandor go over the whole incident again, guffawing with laughter.

Bran was quieter, more intense, but no less friendly. He was studying political science at university, not letting the fact that he was in a wheelchair stop him. He’d suffered a climbing accident as a twelve year old which had rendered him paralysed, but he’d not let that stop him doing what he wanted to do. He’d recently returned from travelling overseas, wheelchair and all. Sandor found himself admiring the young lad.

Arya was the complete opposite of her sister. Loud and rambunctious, she was a triple black-belt in martial arts, despite barely coming up to his chest.

Whilst Sansa was helping Roslin finish dinner preparations and Gendry was playing with his niece and nephew, Arya managed to corner him and grill him with questions.

Normally, this would have pissed him off but Sansa had warned him and after seeing the rest of Sansa’s family, he knew they were very protective of each other, so he grit his teeth and answered her questions.

“You know, don’t you, that if you hurt our Sansa, I have the skills to take you out in a way that it would look like an accident, don’t you?” she warned him, her face deadly serious.

Fuck! This one was scary. Nevertheless, he nodded solemnly. “I have a licenced gun in my possession. If ever I deliberately - and I say deliberately, because being a thoughtless arsehole on occasion doesn’t count since we all do that, even you, I bet – hurt Sansa, I will hand over the gun to you, write a note that I offed myself, and let you pull the trigger. Satisfied?”

Arya stared at him as she processed his words before breaking out in a smile and slapping his arm. “You’ll do.”

“Thanks,” he drawled.

Just before they ate, Sansa’s cousin, Jon, arrived with his girlfriend, Ygritte, another red-head but nowhere near as beautiful as his Little Bird, in Sandor’s opinion. Jon, on the other hand, was ridiculously handsome. The kind of handsome where even he, who didn’t have gay tendencies in the slightest, couldn’t help but stare at the man. Sansa had mentioned that he and his girlfriend were in law enforcement but Sandor knew he would have been a hit on the big screen.

Lunch/dinner was a loud, boisterous affair and Sandor loved it. True to Sansa’s prediction, Roslin had cooked enough to feed most of the staff of Baratheon Bros, he figured.

What made it even better was the way Sansa kept touching him, not hiding her affection from her family and they didn’t bat an eyelid. At one point, he took her hand and kissed it only to see the females, namely Roslin, sighing as if it was the romantic thing they’d ever seen.

After dinner, they all chipped in to clean up, and as Robb handed out glasses of eggnog, they sat in the family room to open presents.

Not expecting anything, Sandor was surprised to receive a bottle of excellent red wine, as well as a ticket to the hockey in a couple of weeks’ time from Robb. He explained that he was season ticket holder for the Riverland Rockets and always gave the men in the family tickets to the hockey so that the women could spend the day pampering themselves, having gifted them a spa day, while they went to the game.

Sandor was a Westerland Wanderers fan but he was delighted to be included in the family outing.

By the time they returned to Sansa’s place, late that evening, they were both pleasantly exhausted as well as loaded down with left overs that Roslin had heaped on them as they left.

Taking a quick shower together, they then went to bed, stomachs and hearts full, and promptly fell asleep.

* * * * *

Sandor paid an exorbitant, but well spent, amount to reserve a table at a swanky restaurant that would allow them to see in the New Year’s fireworks.

Seeing his Little Bird dressed to the nines in a tight, silver dress nearly made him ring the restaurant to cancel and to tumble her back to bed but he restrained himself. Usually, he just watched the fireworks on tv as he drank beer, if he didn’t fall asleep before, so this was something new for him.

Her happy, loving face was all the reward he needed as they ate, Sansa stealing his dessert until he swapped them with a smirk. The restaurant had an outdoor viewing area and he stood with her in his arms, keeping her warm, as they waited for midnight.

Holding her close, they counted down the seconds and he got his first ever New Year’s kiss. It may have lasted more than the usual, neither of them noticing the amused looks sent their way as they kissed for several minutes, the fireworks somewhat wasted on them.

“I love you, Sansa. Happy New Year.”

“It’s the best New Year, Sandor,” she sighed, cupping his face. “I love you, too.”

Closely entwined, they watched the remainder of the fireworks before heading home and creating fireworks of their own.

* * * * *

Sandor returned to work and he suffered severe withdrawal symptoms from his Little Bird. Though they texted and talked, the days dragged until he went back to her place after work.

He found himself spending most nights with her as they found it hard to sleep apart. One night as he tossed and turned in his apartment, he received a call from her at 1.30am, telling him that she couldn’t sleep without him. Needless to say, he was out of his home by 1.40am, to spend the rest of the night with her.

Weekends were spent together, unless she had to go away on a commission. After the first lonely weekend apart, Sansa urged him to go with her, if he could.

The worst was when she needed to travel to the other side of the country for the entire working week and Sandor was unable to go with her. He missed her with an intensity that was almost painful, despite their talking every night, including a number of phone sex sessions that eased the immediate physical ache, but not the emotional one.

When she returned, they fell upon each other like ravenous animals, needing three rounds of hot, wild sex to satisfy their need. They didn’t let the other out of their sight that weekend. At the end of it, Sansa asked if he would move in with her, that she didn’t care if anyone thought it was too soon, but that she wanted to know that their home was with each other.

Over the next few nights, after work, they moved his few possessions to her apartment, despite him have to pay out his contracted rent. Sandor didn’t care about the money – he just wanted to live with Sansa.

Living together was different to sleeping over and there were adjustments to be made by both of them which included the odd spat, but overall, they slotted into their life together as if it had always been.

And Sandor just fell deeper and deeper in love with his Little Bird. Shocking himself, he found himself dreaming of marrying her, wondering when would be the right time to ask her to be his wife.

After a year of tumultuous changes, all of them good, another curveball was thrown his way six weeks earlier.

He came home from work, glad for the scarf and gloves the Little Bird had given him last Christmas as it was getting colder each day to find Sansa sitting in the dark, tears running down her face.

“Little Bird! What’s happened? Are you hurt? Ill?” he growled frantically, taking hold of her arms, his face pale with worry. “Tell me?”

Sansa sniffed and wiped her eyes as she shook her head. “I’m fine, Sandor, I promise.”

“Then what…?”

Her blue eyes shimmering with tears, Sansa spoke the words that knocked the air from his lungs.

“I’m pregnant.”

_Pregnant?_

_Pregnant!_

_The Little Bird’s pregnant._

_Like, a baby, pregnant._

_A baby that is his, pregnant._

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I don’t know what happened? I didn’t get pregnant on purpose, I promise…”

“Little Bird!” he stopped her. A huge smile broke over his face. “You’re having my pup? Are you sure?”

Sansa nodded, smiling a little now. “You…you’re not…angry?”

“Angry? Why the fuck would I be angry? Little Bird, this is amazing!” he cried, pulling her into his embrace and kissing her hard. “I love you so much, Little Bird.”

“Oh Sandor, I was so worried. I thought you would be mad. It’s so soon…”

“I’d never be mad that you’re carrying my baby, Little Bird.” He looked down at her stomach, touching it reverently. “Since meeting you, I’ve experienced so many firsts and this is another one. And what’s too soon? This pup was obviously determined to come. We can do this.”

Sansa giggled a little. “This is the man who called kids ‘snotty nosed brats’ the first day I met him.”

Sandor shrugged. “A lot of things changed when I met you, Little Bird. I’m not the same man.” Kissing her softly, he chuckled ruefully. “And, they’re not that bad. Ned and Cate are pretty cool.”

That night, Sandor made slow, tender love to her, treating her like fragile glass, as if any rough movements might hurt the baby, until Sansa growled at him that she wasn’t breakable and to bloody well fuck her! Sandor could never deny her anything, so…

His mind started turning and the next morning he rang Sam Tarly, asking if he could borrow the Santa suit. Sansa was booked to take the photos again this year, despite Sandor worrying that she would be on her feet for so long and was going be meeting with Sam, Jory and Mr Varys tomorrow to discuss the details.

Being head of security, Sandor knew exactly where the meeting was going to be and went down to the photo area which was in the process of being assembled. Sam was waiting in the dressing area and helped him on with the suit, complete with beard, minus the glue, before dashing off to his meeting.

He didn’t know who was more surprised when he walked into the meeting room, dressed as Santa, and bent to kneel down before Sansa, whose mouth was gaping like a fish.

“Sansa, Little Bird, you’ve made every day feel like Christmas since the moment I met you. I couldn’t love you more if I tried. Will you complete me and become my most beloved wife?” Sandor’s face felt flushed as he waited for answer, ignoring Mr Varys, Sam and Jory, who were grinning like a madmen.

Beautiful blue eyes flooding with tears, Sansa reached forward, wrapping her arms around him and began kissing him all over his face, dislodging the hat and beard so that she could reach his lips. He poured all the love he felt for her into his kiss.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course I’ll marry you, Sandor,” she blubbered. “I love you so much.”

Taking hold of her hand, he slipped the diamond ring onto her finger, Sansa gasping as she saw it. “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed as she admired it.

When she settled a little, she began giggling as she finally took in what he was wearing. “Santa?”

Sandor grinned sheepishly. “This brought us together, Little Bird. It seemed appropriate.”

“Congratulations, you two!” interrupted Jory. “I knew it the moment I saw you together. Hey, you know what would be cool?” At the nods to continue, he said, “If you got married here. In the store. By the Christmas display. Where you met.”

Sandor began to say it was a stupid idea but Sansa beat him to it and cried excitedly. “Oh, that would be so much fun. Wouldn’t it, Sandor?”

“Ah…well, it’s a store, I doubt…”

“Mr Clegane. Miss Stark. Congratulations on your nuptials,” smiled Mr Vary serenely. “I believe that I could put in a good word with the Baratheon’s if that was your wish. It would be wonderful advertising for the store. So romantic and all that. After last year…”

“No,” interrupted Sandor.

“Can we get back to you?” asked Sansa, fingers over Sandor’s mouth to stop him talking.

“Of course, Miss Stark, but you must remember that Christmas is only six weeks away so…”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” promised Sansa.

Despite Sandor’s half-hearted protests, they decided to get married in the store on Christmas Eve, by the beautiful Christmas tree. As they only planned to have family and close friends, narrowing Sandor’s guest list to one, it wasn’t going to be a big thing. Mr Varys suggested that they hold the small reception there as well, an idea Sansa loved.

The owner’s had agreed to the unusual request, seeing the media value in the event. Mr Varys arranged for the photos to finish two hours early and to close the entire floor. Sansa organised for people to come set up the buffet area, as well as tables and chairs. The café downstairs agreed to cater and the wedding cake was ordered.

When Sandor had arrived with Beric, who had agreed to be his best man, he had to admit that the place looked amazing. With the crystals and snowflakes that made up the theme, it looked like a winter wonderland.

Around the tree, chairs were placed for the guests, which totalled only about 40 people, white flowers adorning the area, adding to the charm. The Stark’s family priest had agreed to preside over the ceremony and he was chatting to Bran and Roslin, while the kids sat on Santa’s chair, giggling.

Among the guests were Sam and his girlfriend, Gilly, Jory and his partner as well Mr Varys, who was rueing the lost opportunity to have this filmed for the news but the threat of Sandor exposing that little indiscretion of his put paid to that. Oh well, he did like a good wedding, so he may as well enjoy it.

Sandor, in his black suit and white shirt looked quite handsome as he waited nervously for his bride. Bran gave him a thumbs up from his wheelchair next to Rickon as the music started, an instrumental version of ‘White Christmas’.

When Sansa appeared around the corner, accompanied by her brother, Robb, and Arya as her bridesmaid, Sandor felt like his heart was going to burst from his chest.

Never had he seen a more beautiful sight than his Little Bird in her white gown, looking like one of the snowflakes that surrounded them. Sandor had to swallow hard to dislodge the lump that had appeared in his throat at the sight of her.

Sansa’s face was radiant, beaming as she walked to him, love shining in her eyes.

Taking hold of her hands, everything and everyone disappearing from his vision except her, they said their vows solemnly, tears unashamedly falling down both their cheeks.

Finally, as the priest announced them as husband and wife, Sandor bent down and gently wrapped her in his arms before kissing his new wife passionately, oblivious to the cheers of their family and friends.

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against hers as his hand stole down to her stomach, caressing the tiny bump that could now be felt, to his delight, and which he kissed tenderly every morning and night, and whenever he could in between. They were going to let everyone in on their little secret during the reception.

“I love you, Mrs Clegane,” he whispered, gazing into her eyes.

“I love you, Mr Clegane,” she replied, eyes shining.

“Ready for the rest of our lives?”

“Never been more ready for anything, Santa,” she giggled.

This, of course, earned her another kiss.

Not that she was complaining.

* * * * *

Oh, and the baby was a girl they named Holly.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as queenoferebor1204. It's mainly Richard Armitage, cats and Richard Armitage :-)


End file.
